


Jewel Magic

by LadyHallen



Series: The Twelve Islands [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Gore, Lots of other OC's, Magic, Mentions of War, Romance, Sci-Fi, and please tell me if I missed out on some tags, and some insanity, and un-edited, this is un-betaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:19:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6444112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHallen/pseuds/LadyHallen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the things that have been forgotten have a way of coming back. And some things should not be forgotten. Or else history will repeat itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Helenka wished that she had not stopped to watch but, as always, it was her innate curiosity that got her into trouble. That was what came with having golden eyes. Now, she knew so much more than before, much more than others, and wished she had not known it. She wanted not to know about it.

“Why is the city burning?” the people were asking each other. “Where are the magicians?”

Nobody was acting on the fires. They were used to magic doing everything. Do something!, she wanted to say. But what could they do? This was demon fire, the type of fire that would consume water, stone and flesh and leave nothing, not even ash. It would only stop when it had consumed itself.

Helenka ran on, not stopping, even though her lungs burned for more air. She knew the truth, the painful truth. The city burned because of the magicians. They could not stop the demon fire that they had started. Everybody was slated to die, unless they started running as madly as she was running.

Run or die! Stop or die! Viewed in that nature, the lack of oxygen and the pain in her feet were nothing next to the threat of death.

“Hel, what?” Levushka asked her, halting her in her tracks. Levushka was a friend. She could not leave him to die.

“Run, like the hounds of the darkness are after you!” she told him, panting. “The magicians have unleashed demon fire and they are being burned in hell for their crime. Quickly, the water barges are our only hope.”

They tried to warn as many people as they could. That was the trouble with Levushka. He was too good. By the time the demon fire had consumed the city, they no longer needed to warn the people. The people were running for the ocean. Instead, because of being good Samaritans, the fire was catching up with them.

“Do not stop!” Levushka panted. He knew more about magic than anybody, yet he was always the one ridiculed because of his kind nature. “This fire shall not stop until it has consumed everything in its path.”

Helenka ran. She did not mind the branches whipping her, or the stones that pierced her every step she took. She could hear the screams of the people. Her ears were sensitive and she knew the Emperor laughed as he was eaten by the evil fire.

The whole world seemed to still as evil worked its way to destroy the magical city. There was no starlight, and no moon to brighten the night. Behind her, Helenka heard Levushka scream as he too was eaten by the fire. She wept as she ran, no longer caring. She wanted to rest, but she seemed to hear his words, urging her on to live. It echoed in the night, pushing her just a little bit ahead of the fires rage.

Then she started to shake.

She knew that she was a changer, it was in the family. What was annoying was that she could never change into anything useful. She welcomed it then as she watched the wall of fire charging at her like a Tauro.

Feathers sprouted along her skin. It turned fair into black and finally, as the fire reached where she stood and found only clothes, a black bird with golden eyes soared out of the carnage.

Survivors, watching on the rowboats, saw nothing but a burning empire. Once, the greatest magical empire in the world, now a burning city of rot and ash. Then, they quivered as lightning struck it, twelve times. Whispers of anger. They did not speak well of the Mad Emperor Raine. They all blamed him for the demon fire.

They were all angry and they were all frightened. But it was agreed that magic was evil. They saw the evil of the demon fire, that not even those that unleashed it could stop it.

“We will turn our backs on magic,” was the unsaid vow.

**Chapter one:**

Seven centuries later. City of Nubia, The Twelve Islands.

Rhian scowled at the chief. “I’m not lying, Bash. Foxturtle Berries are not in the storage. You will have to go to the next pharmacy.”

Bash Savakis was a tall man with slightly rugged features that bespoke of a life led in constant difficulty. He was not easily cowed by the small brunette, even if she wore a gold ring with a fire opal mounted on it. Even the non-magical knew that only mages wore rings and even without the ring, Rhian Hondrea was famous enough. “Rhian, the last three pharmacies said that as well. We do need it for the outbreak of Taliesin’s plague back in Banagher’s Hill.”

She glared at him, dark eyes flashing. “If I say it ain’t here, then it really isn’t here! What do you expect me to do about it? Do you want me to conjure some?”

He winced at the implication of law breaking. “The law says-“

“I know what the law says, Bash! But if you people are sensible, you’d ask a mage before enough people die of Taliesin’s plague. You better pray it doesn’t come here!” Rhian scooped up the packages and placed it in the chief’s carrier. “Anything else, chief Bash?”

Bash looked a little ashamed. “Sorry for that, Rhian. You’re a good friend; for all that I don’t act like I appreciate you.”

That made Rhian blush. She had a secret crush on the big Chief that she dealt with as practically as possible. “Oh, go away with your flattery, you shameless man!”

The Chief left with murmured apologies and promises to come back in time for another purchase. With him went Rhian’s smile. She was left to look at the gold ring with the fire opal nestling on top of it looking snug and warm.

“I haven’t used magic in such a long time.” She muttered. The law was strict. With so few magic users, the people were envious. To protect the mages as well as to stop a possible broiling riot, the government had placed a strict ban: “No magic was to be used that could affect other people and non-magic users.”

“As far as the government is concerned,” Rhian remarked to herself. “We can curse each other as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody else.”

It was particularly painful for Rhian’s case. She wore a fire opal ring. That signified just how great her magic was. There were only five of them allowed to wear it. The fact that she couldn’t use magic itched at her constantly.

“Rhian, if you are going to be wool-gathering and daydreaming after Bash, at least do it in the store room where it would do some herbs good.” Her boss put in, startling her out of her pensive thoughts.

“I wasn’t thinking about Bash.” She retorted, though her cheeks tinged pink.

Gareth rolled his eyes. “No, but your face was turned to him like you were asking for water.”

“I just enjoy looking at him,” she clarified, just as she enjoyed looking at her boss, though it was for different reasons. Gareth had a kind and open face, the kind of face that people could trust easily. And when you talked to him, you knew he was an honest man. But Rhian knew, underneath the kindness, was a clever mind and a quick sense of humor that just needed to be poked once in a while.

Rhian was grateful for Gareth. He was one of the few people who would accept a mage as an employee. After the Registration War, mages were looked at cautiously and gently. There were bad mages and good ones in that war. Rhian herself saved Gareth by accident.

One of Gareth’s secrets was his storeroom. It used to be a magicians workroom before the fall of Dagmar-several centuries back. Because of that, no electricity or technology survived or worked within its vicinity. She had to use magic in it to preserve various herbs. Gareth turned a blind eye to this and she was grateful.

“Why do you think foxturtle berries are being bought in droves?” Gareth interrupted again. “It’s not that famous a herb. It’s also damnably difficult to grow.”

Rhian was still slightly irritable. “I really do not care. If they are smart, they would ask us mages about herb lore, but no! They can always synthesize the herbs in a day! Hah!”

This was an old grievance. Gareth waved her to the storeroom with a half-laugh.

Rhian was a mage specializing in jewel magic. She used that to see in the dark storeroom filled with boxes, dust and bottles. Quartz was her favorite jewel when it came to holding light, even if it made everything look orange. Quartz was always agreeable to light, even if it was a little hard headed in turning off the aforementioned light. That was the only hard thing about quartz.

Another of her specialties was herb lore. Bringing out the freshness of old herbs made her medicines more potent than most. That was what made her sure that synthetic medicines were nothing compared to the real ones. Technology had its uses but magic was invaluable.

The storeroom was also the one place where Rhian could remove her fire opal ring without warnings and detectors going berserk. Most mages spelled their rings and she was no different. To prevent her magic from leaking out, she had placed a restraint on the ring. It made her ache but that made her safe from the law. The scientists had somehow managed to create magical detectors.

“I thought you had a party to attend?” the voice was rasping and grating on the ear.

Rhian barely turned, so absorbed was she in the measuring, sealing and grating. “What time is it, Calixte?”

The golden eyed raven sniffed. “Nearly seven. You’ve been here for nearly three hours.”

She stretched her hands, working out the cramps along her neck and shoulders. “Alright. But I have to clean up first.” With a small gesture, the bottles all flew back to their old places. She used an empty crystal to gather all the dust. Calixte dropped the ring in her hand.

Calixte was one of the oddities in Rhians already odd life. The large, golden-eyed raven had turned up suddenly when Rhian was younger. It wasn’t until she had adapted to the ravens wild ways that she discovered that the raven could talk. Rhian had the misfortune of learning belatedly that Calixte had a sense of humor that bordered on sadistic. But the strange thing was, the bird had never been cruel to Rhian.

She bade farewell to Gareth as he closed up shop and together, bird and woman set out on the street. They made an odd pair. The woman was tidy and fragile, the bird large, wild and evil-looking.

“I hope we’re not late.” She remarked to Calixte. They had stopped in front of a seemingly ordinary puddle of water. If you touched it, you wouldn’t feel water at all. It was a portal enchanted to look like water so that people ignored it. It rained enough in Nubia that a puddle of water was easily ignored.

The raven took flight. “I hate this part. Why can’t they enchant something else as a portal?”

“Stop complaining.” Rhian said practically. “You can’t do anything about it.” Then she jumped into the portal disguised as a puddle of water. The bird gave one last groan and followed, wincing for a splash that did not come.

There was the brief sensation of falling and being jolted sideways, almost as though something large had taken hold of you and yanked you to the side as you fell from somewhere very tall.

When Rhian opened her eyes, she was in Zuhar, the last refuge of mages and mage-finders. The entire building was built before the fall of Dagmar. Everything was done by magic within the building and if you showed any technology, you were glared at. No technology worked anyway. Things created in the time of Dagmar made technology go haywire.

“Rhian!” someone called.

She jumped out of the way of the portal before someone landed on her. The portal was always full of people coming or going. The one calling her name frantically was Bowie.

Among mages, Bowie was a special case. Those that chose to be mages were those that had nowhere else to go and found a family among the other mages. Mages were generally found young and grew into nice people. The odd cases cropped up, those that showed magic in the later part of their lives. Those people became variables. They were nice, mean, erratic or just plain weird. Bowie belonged to the last. The act was their façade for whatever they had run from in their old lives.

Rhian was curious to know what made an old man like Bowie act like a child. However, she didn’t want to ask such a rude question to her senior mage.

“That fellow hasn’t grown up a bit.” The raven remarked before flying off.

In the light of the glowing crystals, everything looked festive due to the different jewels spelled for light. Rhian looked at the chandelier hanging on the ceiling like a disco-ball proudly. That had been her finest work.

“You’re late.” Bowie complained when she finally sat across him. Most people didn’t respect him until they saw the black opal mounted on a golden band resting on his hand. That was the honor given only to the strongest and most powerful mage. Only three wore that ring.

“Patience wouldn’t hurt you.” She retorted. “What’s the news?”

Bowie filled her in. He held the Zuhar together with his strength. All mages sent him information and he took it upon himself that everyone was informed of current events.

“There’s a plague in Banagher’s Hill.” She informed him. “Bash came to the pharmacy looking for foxturtle berries.”

Bowie looked surprised. “Taliesin’s plague? The last outbreak was seventy years ago. You were still a toddler around then.”

“I wasn’t even born then, old man. I’m not that old.” She shot back, offended. “But Bash told me that foxturtle was also not in the other pharmacies. We didn’t even have any.”

All tomfoolery was gone from Bowie’s face. “That sounds serious Rhian.”

“No. they have technology to make foxturtle berries.” The last was said with a bite. She really disliked synthetic medicine.

Bowie shook his head. “No, Rhian. I just got news from Cecil. The laboratories burned down. They have to do it the old way. I would bet they don’t even know how.”

She was not easily shocked but even this made her blink for a moment. “What caused it?”

“We don’t know yet. Aric is there, snooping around the headquarters.”

Rhian was starting to have a bad feeling. “Bowie, Taliesin’s plague is mage caused. If the results have magical causes, it’s going to be a riot.”

Taliesin’s plague started with stomach cramps and a dislike to eat. That was the illness rotting away the internal organs. Then a difficulty to breathe as it ate away the lungs and then finally, the person starts vomiting blood as the liver rots away. The person died in a week. it was a cruel death because of how slow it was. It also attacked those without the magical gift. It was used in the Registration war, when the government was forcing mages to sign up and let themselves be counted.

“Don’t panic yet.” Calixte cawed. She had arrived without warning. “Recall all mages back to the Zuhar. We have to be wary but not overly cautious. It will cause suspicions.”

There was a susurrus as the word was passed around. Some of the younger mages removed their rings looking frightened. The older ones wore theirs. Rhian would bet that it was being spelled for protection and safety.

“You will stay the night?” Bowie asked.

Rhian understood his plea. He was the most powerful mage in the Zuhar, currently. The responsibility-which he hated-would eventually fall on him.

“I’m sorry, old man.” She said sincerely sorry. “I owe it to Gareth to protect him. Banagher’s Hill is not far from Nubia. If the plague finds him, I will never forgive myself.

Bowie was disappointed but let her go. On the way out, she gave him a small garnet.

“If you need protection from physical harm, just break it. A wall will appear from the shards.”

She left the Zuhar feeling naked and unprotected with the loss of her garnet but the look of relief on Bowie’s face was more than enough to compensate for it. Calixte preened her hair as comfort but she still twitched at shadows all the way to Nubia.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

As a child, Rhian found that jewels talked to her. Emeralds told her that they could be used to enhance health. Amethysts told her that they could give strength and sight. It was also odd but she got a sense of personality from each jewel that she encountered. She knew which one was friendly and which one to treat cautiously lest its allegiance turn against you.

But Pearls were what got her in trouble. They were mischievous and they told her that they could hurt those who hurt her. Ignorant, Rhian threw pearls at bullies-even then her aim had been good-and the bullies exploded the moment the pearls touched their flesh.

A sapphire ring mage found her and brought her to the Zuhar before the government could kill her for an act she did not understand yet.

She did not remember much of her previous life, yet it was the moment that changed her life forever that she remembered vividly.

As a grown mage, Rhian was still reluctant to use pearls for self-defense. She still had nightmares of boys exploding. She preferred garnets that gave physical protection and diamonds that conveyed a semblance of invisibility.

“What is going on?” Gareth asked, banging on her door. He never entered her room. In that way, she found him charming because of how old fashioned that custom was. The world was already so modern yet Gareth’s manners were often stuck in the 16th century.

Rhian emerged looking like she wore all her jewelry. Several ropes of pearls hung on her neck and her hands glittered due to the number of bracelets and rings adorning it.

“Gareth. Something serious is going on.” She started. She told him everything. Technically, as a mage, she had taken an oath of Silence and an oath of Balance. But Gareth would never leave unless she had told him the whole of it. By the end of it, his eyes were huge in his face.

“I’ll go to Menefer,” he said. “I have relatives who’ll take me in.” Menefer was one of the Twelve Islands, well known for its Tropical beaches and its relaxing spa’s.

She was still worried. “I pray it doesn’t reach Menefer.” As a precaution, she gave him rings spelled for protection, safety and health. “Wear it under gloves.” She told him firmly.

Rhian kept watch as Gareth left. She watched as the blue speck of his windbreaker travelled in the distance until it reached the airships. Only then did she release a sigh of relief. By then, the soldiers were starting the quarantine. She waited until the screams sounded. The plague had entered Nubia. 

“Do not interfere.” Calixte said firmly. Her talons dug into Rhian’s shoulder.

“But this is mage caused! I just know it. Somebody wants a war.” As she spoke, one of her rings flashed. It was her rainbow opal. Someone was looking for her help.

“Who is it?” she asked. Calixte’s magic was different from hers. 

The raven bent her head to look at the ring and flapped her wings irritably. “It’s Bash. He’s looking for you and he can’t find you because of the diamonds you’re using.”

If it had been another stone that glowed, Rhian would not have done it. A jasper stone would have told her of dangerous intent but it was a moonstone that shone. Moonstones were friendly stones. They only glowed when someone nearby was looking for help and meant no harm at the same time. 

When the diamonds protection faded, a hand went around her mouth.

“Don’t move, mage.” A deep voice. Bash was a light tenor.

Calixte rose and cawed, loudly. Her sharp talons glinted and the man removed his hand in a hurry.

“Rhian! We come in peace!” This one was Bash.

She released the pearls she had clenched and turned. It was indeed Bash and with him were an entire platoon of soldiers ogling at the amount of jewelry she wore. The one leading them had reddish blonde hair and gray-green eyes. He had thick brows and a mouth that looked like it was made to smile. He was also the handsomest man she had ever seen.

“Well? You’re looking for my help?” she asked. She wasn’t scared of soldiers. She had enough garnets to feel safe. What she was wary about were the mobs. She did not have the strength to hold off an entire mob, driven only by frenzy.

The handsome one looked astonished. “How do you know, Rhian Fire-hair?”

Rhian winced. “Just call me Rhian. And no, I am not telling you how I know. We mages have our secrets you know.”

“I’m Emlyn. Do you know the entire situation?”

She folded her arms. “Yes, or most of it. How far is the plague spreading?”

“It is nearing Upton.” One of the soldiers volunteered.

Her brows raised “That’s already five cities. What do you want?”

“Why have you stayed?” Bash countered. “We’ve searched forever and we can’t find any other mage. It’s like you all vanished.”

Calixte cackled. Rhian glared at the evil bird. “Shut up, Calixte. You would not have found me either, except that I know someone was looking for me. Well?”

Emlyn grinned, though there was a serious hint to that smile. “The High Chancellor is declaring Martial Law. I managed to get the Admiral to sign papers allowing you to help us contain the plague.”

That was enough to get Rhian to perk up. She hated not doing anything, especially when she could do a lot. But she had a long memory.

“Only me?” she asked suspiciously.

“Well, anybody willing to help.” He amended.

“And the consequences? Will we get killed and hanged after or will we be fugitives again? If I remember, the help I gave during the Registration War was treated as trash.” Her black eyes were bright with her anger.

Emlyn flushed and the soldiers looked at the floor. Calixte pecked at her shoulder to get her attention. “Shame on you.” The bird reprimanded. “Hear what you are saying!” The soldiers started. It was not every day they met a talking bird.

Rhian had a temper but she kept a tight leash on it. She let it lose then. “I’m saying? They fear and hate us for something we have no control of and when they need our help, they expect us to open our arms in welcome!”

This tirade would have gone on longer if not for Calixte. The shadows moved and a shape emerged from the darkness. It was a compact looking man with gray hair tied in a long braid. He looked decidedly oriental, with the beard and the slanted eyes.

“Sir!” Rhian had to say. She suppressed the urge to kneel. Instead, she touched two fingers to her lips.

“Calixte, I received your message.” Alexavier greeted. “Rhian is creating a ruckus.”

“Refusing to help.” The shameless raven cawed. Rhian wanted to throttle the bird. She knew that Calixte had sent for Alexavier when it became evident that she, Rhian, was on the verge of throwing pearls.

“We will all help.” Alexavier told Emlyn. “I have called the Zuhar.”

Rhian gritted her teeth but did not argue. Alexavier was a shadow mage on the same level as Bowie, if not higher. If there was another level of magic higher than the black opal, he would have had the honor of holding it alone. He was the most powerful mage in the world. His name was a by-word when it came to strength.

“Rhian.” It was just her name but it was a command nonetheless. Bash looked at Alexavier with awe. Very few people could order her around and not get their heads snapped off.

“I’ll try to slow the disease, sir.” She almost snapped. Luckily, she kept it curt.

Emlyn followed her as she strode briskly into the city. He and Bash had exchanged glances and the chief had simply nodded and Emlyn followed Rhian like a burr stuck on her clothes. He fought hard to keep the look of awe off his face. He had only been with her for a couple of minutes but he had already felt that she wasn’t one to order around. Unfortunately, Rhian’s temper was still boiling and she had to take it out on something. The blonde man was the ideal target.

“What?” she snapped.

He looked apprehensive. “I can’t understand mages. Do you have your own hierarchy or order?”

“Why are you following me?” she asked to divert him from the question. “Do you want to get the illness?”

“I can’t. My sister is a mage. She sent me a health ring several days ago.” He pointed to the ring dangling on his ears. It glinted blue-gray.

“That’s a spellstone. It isn’t going to last long. But the runes carved on the metal-you can never be harmed.” Rhian had to respect Emlyn’s sister. That was expensive. Only true gold could hold those runes, not the synthetic gold that was abundant in the market.

“How can you see that? I didn’t even know that was there. This thing is small.” Then he looked ahead, distracted by something. “Why do you talk so formally?”

Rhian would have answered his question with a sharp retort. Emlyn didn’t need to know all the secrets of magic. Then smoke drifted in front of her. If she had not been wearing amethysts, she would not have seen it.

“The fires have started. And curse Alexavier! He knows I cannot deal with this!” she ground out. Rhian rushed to the source only to find the riots starting. The people all looked sick but that was the bad thing with Taliesin’s plague. As the body rotted more, the stronger the person got.

“What do we do?” Emlyn asked. That made her start. For the moment, she had completely forgotten him.

“They can’t see us. The plague gives them visions. Just don’t make a sound because they can still hear, and like wolves too.” She shuddered. She had heard stories of men torn limb from limb by a mob cursed by Taliesin’s plague.

Rhian asked the jewels to lend their strength. The diamonds made her hard to see and the emeralds gave health to her. That health she sent to the mob. Slowly, their movements became less frenzied. They were starting to feel their aches and sores.

Through sheer will power, she shepherded them to a building that still stood and made them sleep. Using amethysts, she looked for more people and herded them to buildings. Soon, she had filled approximately two city blocks. She used a garnet stone to create a barrier that prevented anyone from entering or leaving.

She opened her eyes, feeling like she was pierced by a dozen laser guns in the wrong places. “Ungh!” she moaned.

Calixte greeted her. “You overdid yourself. I didn’t know you could do that.”

Rhian snorted. She felt better seeing the raven though she was still slightly irked about the matter of Alexavier. “Traitor! How’s Alexavier?”

If a raven could roll its eyes, Calixte would have done it. “He’s sending Alecia. I don’t think he expected you to do this quarantine by yourself. Your lover boy is fetching you water.” The raven chortled when she flushed. “Don’t deny it. I know you better than anyone. You always enjoy looking at the good-looking fellows.”

Rhian could roll her eyes. “I’m too old for him. I need more jewels. The emeralds cannot do everything. I am fueling it with my will but this ring will be useless after this. Ungh! Synthetic! What I wouldn’t give for a real, earth born emerald.”

The raven was remorseless. “If you hadn’t given those two rings to Gareth, you would still have more emeralds. Oughtn’t you be thinking of events like these instead of Gareth’s safety?”

“I was planning but I hadn’t planned on Alexavier coming to me.” That reminded Rhian of the fires. “Is the city burned down? I stopped the people from setting more buildings on fire but you know I can’t deal with fire.”

“Delta put them out.”

Emlyn jogged to her, carrying hydrated squares. It melted into her tongue, releasing far more water than one cubic inch of a square could hold.

“We’re on quarantine.” She informed him before he could ask. 

He raised one blond eyebrow. “We did that in Banagher’s Hill but it reached Nubia anyway.”

“You weren’t doing it with a mage, were you? There’s only so much technology could do, you know?”

Calixte gave off a cawing cough, much like how a human would sound like if he changed a laugh midway into violent choking. 

“She’s tired, boy.” The raven said. “A bed won’t sweeten her up but at least it will make the vinegar less sour.” 

Rhian was half-asleep when she stumbled into Section 18. She missed seeing Alexavier’s astonished face. Just his astonishment would have fixed her rotten day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We're only human."

The High Chancellor could not do everything, seeing as he was on the continent and there were a dozen islands. So he assigned two people to manage his affairs and to deal with the islands. One was named the Chancellor, to stay put on an island for a year or so and then move on. The other was called the Admiral, who moved from island to island like a restless spirit. The Admiral dealt with the people and the Chancellor dealt with the law.

To meet the Admiral, in person, was daunting. The Chancellor was a quiet man with a terrible humor. The Admiral drew the eye like magnet to metal.

Rhian had just woken up and was trying her best not to stare. So far, she wasn’t succeeding. At least all she had to do was listen to Alexavier and Bowie talk. She just sat in the corner and observed things like a bodyguard or a potted plant. Rhian felt like the latter.

“We understand your wish to help.” The Chancellor was saying. “And we understand that we need the help. But to alter the law for Section 18, it is still too much and too recent.”

“So are we at your beck and call? To be your slaves? I think it would be better if we didn’t help you.” Alexavier replied. Rhian had never heard his voice get that cold.

“This entire island would become a place where only magic-users live.” Bowie pointed out softly. “I do not think you can afford that.”

Both men ignored him utterly. They had been ignoring Bowie the minute the older man had put on his “foolish” act. If Rhian hadn’t known that this was what he wanted, she would have punched somebody.

“How can we change the law when we do not know the limits of what you can do? Until the recent war, nobody even knew mages existed.” the Admiral demanded. He was drumming his fingertips on the table. He exuded boredom. Rhian couldn’t blame him; the entire conversation had been running around in circles for an entire two hours. 

“You do not need to know everything.” Alexavier ground out. “If you do, would you not find it easy to murder all of us in our sleep?”

“We do not need to know everything, just some things. As of now, we practically know nothing of mages.”

“There are very few of us left.” Bowie put in.

Rhian managed to stop a snort. That statement seemed to lack adjectives. What about scarce?

“Your suspicion stems from the unknown, right Admiral?” a new voice called out.

Rhian immediately jumped to her feet and gave the sign of respect to Brygid. She had only met the lady once but she remembered her. “Lady. I am pleased you could come.”

Brygids piercing blue eyes greeted Rhian. Her entire aura emanated happiness and cordiality. Brygid was skilled in something like a reverse-empathy. People felt what she wanted them to feel…except certain mages like Alexavier and Bowie.

“Brygid.” Alexavier sighed. “You are late.”

“I placed a sensorial paralysis on the inside of the quarantine.” She reported. “It was the least I could do. I didn’t hear the news till yesterday. The continent-“

“Your report can wait till later. If you could join us?” Alexavier said, pushing a chair in her direction.

The tall mainlander sat, arranging her long limbs. Her blue eyes were keen, shining as brightly as the amethysts braided into her brown hair. There was no hint of resentment to Alexavier for interrupting her in the middle of a report. Rhian could not have borne that without giving out a sharp retort.

Mainlanders really were odd. They talked too much for one. 

“Lady Brygid is right.” The Chancellor continued. “We do not know how much you could do. If we remove the law, who knows? Mayhap you would sink the continent. Or kill the High Chancellor.”

Alexavier, about to say something about that, paused when Brygid snorted. 

“Oh?” she interrupted. “Truly? You think we would waste our time killing the High Chancellor? We would rather take over the minds of the people and then blow apart the planet.”

There was a stunned silence. Sarcasm literally dripped from her tongue. Then the Admiral began to laugh. It broke the tension and the shock. Rhian sighed.

“Lady,” she whispered to Brygid quietly. “Put forth some warning before you make your jokes.”

Brygid just winked at her. Really, Mainlanders were dense.

With Brygid, the negotiations went faster. Rhian suspected that the lady was using her magic on them but she never broke out a sweat. Rhian could not have done it that subtly. Then again, Brygid was a black opal mage. The levels of their magic could scarcely be fathomed….her old herb teacher used to say.

“Let’s settle this.” The Chancellor said in a concluding voice. “We will shift the laws in accordance to what you will reveal to us. But you will not reveal everything. Am I right to understand this?”

“Indeed.”

“Who do you place to tell us these things?” That was the Admiral. He looked skeptical. He did not believe that any mage would reveal the magecraft. Everybody knew that it was a well guarded secret. Mages under torture had let nothing slip.

“Rhian Hondrea.” Lady Brygid said sweetly.

“What!?” Rhian, Alexavier and Bowie all gasped at once. The two men blinked their surprise. Apparently, her name had been heard by them as well. Rhian Hondrea, Rhian Fire-Hair. The idealist mage that helped end the war.

“It is reasonable.” The lady continued, ignoring the reactions, though Rhian guessed that she was secretly relishing it. As an emotionally connected mage, she must have felt everything. “She is tired from the burst of magic she used earlier and she is a most accomplished mage, especially in the study of history.”

Rhian tried not to shift under their scrutiny. She could only pray that Bowie or Alexavier could shift Brygid’s plan. Revealing things felt too much like a betrayal to the oaths she had taken.

“It is a wise decision.” Alexavier conceded.

“No one could be better.” Bowie added.

Rhian jumped up, panic writ all over her face. “Lady! Sir! I am accomplished in herb lore. Please, choose someone else to do this honor.”

Shadows moved and forced her to sit down. The Chancellor looked uneasy whilst the Admiral looked from one person to the other, probably trying to decipher who was doing it. No one had blatantly used magic in front of them so far.

“Your oaths are not nil.” Bowie told her gently. “This honor is yours.” Then he looked at her even more seriously. “And you know what will follow you if you disagree.”

Rhian winced. “Yes sir.”

She was patted and comforted by Brygid. Discreetly, the lady whispered to her what to tell.

Then there was a flurry of activity and she found herself seated in front of the most powerful men amongst the twelve islands. There was a recording device dangling in front of her.

Rhian touched her rings for comfort.

“Begin.” The Admiral said gently.

She composed herself. More than ever, she wished for Calixte but the wretched bird would not touch the headquarters that dealt with the Misuse of Magic.

“Calmly and as practically as possible,” she whispered to herself.

“What do you know of Dagmar?” she asked abruptly. In the search for where to start, the historical city was always the best place.

“It is a fairytale.” 

Of course. Nobody believed in Dagmar anymore, except the mages.

She shook her head. “No, it existed. Around seven hundred years ago, Dagmar stood on where the continent was. They made everything beautifully. Magic thrived and pulsed among the people. But then came a time when they had too much power. Truly, they made beautiful buildings and created things far too difficult to recreate now, but they wanted too much. So much that they destroyed themselves. There are never any records on how they destroyed themselves, but there is evidence of a fire. And only one fire is strong enough to consume through stone, flesh and bone and leave nothing, not even ash. The mages of Dagmar summoned demon fire, and burned the city, either by accident or design, no one knows.

“Raine the Mad did not help things. He was supposed to lead the people but his actions divided the continent and created the islands. He aided the mages in their experiments. Twelve islands for the number of lightnings he called down from the heavens. The kingdom died, quickly and in the most painful way possible.

“Several people survived. There was mention of a person that warned them all of it and some managed to reach the river and the ocean. They remembered the evil of unrestrained magic. So they spoke of the taint of mages and went to their tools and skills. They turned their back on magic. Magic was considered evil from that time. But one person knew he had magic. He was very strong and usually, with that strength, the magic will leak out. So he found a way to study in secret. He relearned everything. His name was Romanov. He was the first mage after the Fall of Dagmar.”

Rhian paused to drink water and the Admiral pounced in. The genteel Chancellor looked stunned. 

“How do you know all this?”

She shrugged. “There are ways to speak to the long dead. But even without that, we would have known. Dagmar left ruins and we live on, seeing those truths.”

There was an awkward pause. Both of the men tried to think of what would come next.

“Continue, Fire-Hair.”

Rhian grimaced. Really, that name!

“We have continued the tradition of studying discreetly. The ones capable of learning are found by the mage finders. They are given the choice of learning or keeping it secret and never approaching a mage again. And then we teach. The child is given a golden medallion to tell others of his rank. Etched on the metal are his teachers name and his teachers rank. And then child’s name and his specialty.”

“Specialty?”

“The specifics, Admiral. Each individual is talented with something. We just magnify it and the mage makes it his focus of study all his life.”

Rhian made her tone tell him what she could not. Brygid had not told her to tell this so she tried to keep it secret.

“Continue.”

She sighed in relief. “The ranks of mages are in accordance to how much power they have. There are six ranks, seven if you include students. The weakest is the Amber mage. Next is the Bixbite mage-“

“Bixbite?” one of them interrupted.

“Bixbite….it is a type of a red beryl.” Seeing as they still looked confused she added. “A red gemstone with a different sheen from a ruby. All of these are gemstones.”

“Ah!”

“Yes, so a Bixbite mage. Then a Sapphire mage, a Lapis Lazuli mage, a Fire Opal mage and finally, a Black Opal mage. They wear rings in accordance to their rank.”

As one, they glanced at Rhian’s hands which were covered with rings and bracelets of all kinds of class and color. If it had been a mage looking, he would have realized that only one ring was mounted on gold.

“What rank are you?” the Chancellor had to ask.

“I am a Fire opal mage.” She answered, grinning. When they could not hide their shock, she could not resist adding. “By the by, we only defer to those more powerful than us. And there are only three black opal mages in the world.”

It did not take them long to get her meaning.

Rhian still laughed, several hours later. Their expressions of skepticism and surprise were priceless. Chagrin colored her amusement, however. Brygid was right. She was still tired from that burst of magic. Also, she was still holding up the shield spell and the health spell. Someone had found her a real emerald and it made her job easier. But to do long distance magic for so long….It drained even the best of mages. It didn’t take much concentration, just a lot of strength.

The best she could do, she found, was just the basic magics. Even this was feeble and wobbled slightly. For a person used to doing things easily, this was a trial. To relieve her feelings, Rhian found herself wandering to the workroom provided by Sector 18. Several other mages were there, doing herb lore. Alecia and Delta were among their number, pounding and measuring Fennel to be added to the Foxturtle Berries. Scientists sniffed condescendingly at the barbaric methods. 

“Rhian!” they waved her over.

She grinned at them. “How go things?” she asked. “Have you found Foxturtle berries yet?”

Alecia frowned. “No, someone tried to conjure earlier-“

“Arawn.” Delta supplied.

“Yes, Arawn tried to conjure some but he got serious rebounds from the spell.” Alecia pounded the fennel angrily. It was strange to see the doll-like Alecia so irritable. She had the blackest hair and even bluer eyes than Brygid. Physically, you could not believe that she was a fire opal mage. Even angry, you could see that the fine line of her brows was made for smiling and laughing.

Delta made soothing motions. “Bowie is trying to read what went wrong with the spell.” Delta was a mage specializing in elemental magic. Her specialty was earth and water manipulation. Looking at her, you could believe she was capable of causing earthquakes. She was tall and had muscles like a soldier.

Rhian always found talking to both of them amusing. One was as calm as a lake; the other was as unpredictable as the ocean. Yet they always worked well together. She could not understand how they did it.

“Why are you here, Fire-hair?” Delta asked.

Rhian grimaced but said nothing regarding the nickname. Knowing Delta, it would be futile.

“The sickbed is too much for me.” She answered instead.

They made noises of sympathy. No mage liked to be indisposed whenever something could be done. That was their oath.

“Can I do anything?” she pleaded.

Both were empathic but they had their orders.

“Sorry, Rhian.” Alecia said with a smile. “But Bowie was serious. If we made you do anything aside from rest, he would cast ill-chance on us for the rest of our lives.”

Rhian couldn’t say anything to that. The threat of ill-chance, also known as hexing, was a serious thing. 

Chance magic was dangerous because it was underestimated, frequently. True, it did little things but to have ill-luck following you for the rest of your life…Well, imagine carrying a stack of plates on slippery ground, a very high stack of extremely breakable plates on an extremely polished slippery ground. Now, if you were careful, the chance that the plates would break would be reduced to fifty percent. Chance magic would increase the chance of you falling flat on your face with those extremely breakable plates.

If you were a naturally clumsy person, a chance mage could kill you – easily.

Rhian preferred fighting hordes to facing an angry Chance mage.

“Where are you going?” Both of them asked.

“It’s too annoying to watch the two of you so busy and I can’t help. I’m going to wander off. Bowie can hex me all he wants, but I’m tired of resting.” She wandered off, their giggles still ringing in her ears.

She explored the much dreaded Sector 18 with great interest. Sector 18 dealt with the misuse of magic. The mages had meaner names. They called it the hammer of mages. A lot died here, under torture. 

Rhian expected dark and dank passages, unlit and unclean with the spirals on the walls spelling out “HELP!!”…or something of that sort. Sector 18 surprised her with its cleanliness. It had white walls and sliding panels made of glass. Seeing as it was her first time in a building built purely from technology, she had a lot to learn. Even Gareth did not have all this in his pharmacy.

There were blank panels on the walls that glowed to life when you touched it, showing a map in case you got lost. There was an identity pad on every door and a welcome mat that greeted you as you entered a room. It literally spelled a greeting, with your name, as you stepped on it. There was also a square little device that created any drink you asked for. Rhian would have loved to do it by magic but there were a lot of magical detectors, and even if her type of magic was hard to detect, she didn’t want to risk them going berserk. She knew the mages were only there under sufferance, but she didn’t want to test out the tolerance of the people in Sector 18.

What caught her attention most was the facilities. They had very good computers and workrooms. Often, when she entered a room, the people in it would look up in surprise and then smile at her.

At least they were not scowling and sending her back to her bed, as was the case when she entered a room where Bowie and Brygid were working. The only time the scientists and the technicians scowled at her was when she asked her three hundredth question regarding an object.

Around mid afternoon, she got lost and even with the help of the maps, she could not find her way. Her sense of direction was rather convoluted if she stared at the walls. The white just looked completely the same. What made her desperate to get back to familiar ground was the thought of food. She was hungry. All that magic being done had taken its toll on her stomach at last.

“Lost?” a kind voice asked.

Rhian found herself looking into gray-green eyes.

“Emlyn!” She exclaimed. “What brings you here?”

“I get everywhere.” He boasted.

Rhian wanted to slap him. “Really?”

He must have read the intention in her eyes because he raised both hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I was joking. Can’t anybody ever joke around you?”

“No. Jokes make my hair frizz.” She said with a straight face. Then she added, “How do I get some food around here?”

Emlyn blinked at her and then grinned. “The mess hall is down here somewhere. But if you don’t like eating with us “normal” humans, then you can always ask the com-box to send you some food. You can specify it too, if you’re picky.”

It took Rhian a second to figure out that he meant the square device that sent up drink. “It sends food as well?” she asked.

“Sure. Have you never used a com-box before? Lots of houses have it. It saves them from having to have a servant.” Emlyn looked perplexed.

She shrugged. “Why use that when I can easily summon one from the kitchens and send it away again when I am done with it? Though it does save energy.” She added.

Emlyn shook his head. “I still can’t get used to talking to a mage. You fellows are rather hard to talk to.”

“I thought your sister is a mage?”

“I haven’t seen her in a number of years and she says that technology does crazy around her so she can’t afford to have a Nano-speaker.” He explained.

“Goes crazy around her? Did she ever happen to mention what her specialty is?” Rhian had never met a mage who could not touch technology. It was a rather astonishing thing to find out.

“No. She’s as tight-lipped as you about that. What is a specialty?” he looked so curious that she avoided his gaze.

“Well, at least she kept her oaths, even if she has you for a brother.” She remarked to divert him from the question.

As she thought, it worked. Emlyn immediately took the bait. “What was that supposed to mean?”

They were still arguing when they rounded into the mess hall. It was surprising to find a lot soldiers and officers eating. What made Rhian pause was the uneasy air. The jokes were said rather carefully and the laughter was slightly strained.

“It’s the mages.” Emlyn told her, noting how her eyes took in the anxious faces. “We are Sector 18, after all. Our job is to murder and capture mages, we don’t usually consort and cavort with them. It makes the men uneasy. Some are thinking that maybe vengeance is not far.”

Rhian snorted. “They are uneasy?” she gestured to the mages sitting in a huddle. “What about us? We are very few. We too are afraid of you. We are also in your Sector; you can have us in a lockdown before we can say ‘Hail Dagmar!!’.”

He looked pensive, as though the thought had never occurred to him before. “I didn’t know mages could be frightened.” He said finally.

“We’re only human.” She said in response. “We bleed and we die. We’re just slightly harder to kill.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Rhian! Wake up! He’s back!”

Rhian shot up from the bed, banging her forehead on someone else’s. Rubbing the stars away, she saw blue eyes peeking at her reproachfully from a dark curtain of hair.

“That hurt!” Alecia complained, tears in her eyes.

“You didn’t have to lean in that close.” Rhian retorted. In her mind, anybody that tried to wake her up deserved a banging.

She placed on two rings and several bracelets. She stabbed a number of jeweled hairpins in her hair and started to hunt for her boots. Jades kicked in and removed the fog of sleepiness in her mind, making her see articles of clothing faster.

“You were as still as a Dreamwalker.” Alecia pointed out. “I thought you slept deeply.”

“Never mind that. Who’s back?” she asked, putting on a gray windbreaker and thick gold boots.

Immediately, the Chance mages eyes lit up like lamps. “Alexavier! He was doing some physical investigation by himself. He’s not that good with the Basic Magics, not like Bowie and Brygid.

“Yeah, I know that.” That was mage-wide knowledge. It was the one thing a person could tell Alexavier boastfully. It was also the one sure thing that can get you killed immediately. Alexavier didn’t like people rubbing in his one flaw.

Alecia continued as though Rhian had never spoken. “He’s brought back a prisoner. He caught somebody.”

That made Rhian move faster. “The berries? Did he find some? It’s already the second day. Some of those in quarantine died already, I can tell.”

Alecia actually bounced with impatience. “No, I don’t know! I came to find you as soon as I heard he was back. Delta wasn’t here, you see. Hurry up!”

It was easy to find Alexavier. They just had to locate where the ruckus and the noise was originating. Noise was alien to Sector 18. There seemed to be a law against laughing too loudly or shouting at somebody.

Rhian was slightly taller than Alecia and she looked over shoulders to find the center of the noise. Rhian saw a short man with sly eyes and wanted to duck and vanish.

“The Warlock is here!” she whispered to Alecia.

Alecia’s jaw dropped in surprise. “The Warlock? I though he was in Menefer.”

“Apparently not.”

The Warlock was not a magic-user. He was the head of Sector 18 and his methods of catching mages were almost magical, thus he was dubbed ‘the warlock’ by his friends and enemies. 

Presently, an argument was breaking out.

“He belongs in our jurisdiction,” the Warlock was pointing out. “Interrogating him falls on us.”

Nothing makes Alexavier angrier than the Warlock. Plenty of his friends had been killed by the small man. Rhian felt nervous, watching Alexavier’s expressionless face.

“Yes, Sir Warlock, as you show such an aptitude for it.” He said mockingly.

The Warlock’s eyes narrowed.

Rhian desperately looked around for Brygid. Where was the Reverse-empathy mage? But nobody had thought to call her immediately. Anxiously, she stumbled forward with Alecia close on her heels. At least she could break a garnet on the Warlock if he ever needed the protection.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Alexavier said, breaking off his sentence when he saw her. If possible, he looked angry. The only two emotions he ever showed was calm and coldness. He tried to block a person sprawled inelegantly behind him but did not succeed.

“Sir, is that Donovan?” Alecia asked.

Rhian was grateful for Alecia for she found she could not speak through the shock. Donovan was dead! Her lover died twenty-five years ago. She saw him die.

“Somebody get her back to bed.” Brygid commanded. “Why was she brought here anyway?”

Through sheer force of will, Rhian woke herself. “No!” she said. “I’m not going to faint.”

She watched the curve of his eyebrows, the little frown of his lips. It really was him, or a person that looked perfectly like him. He even had the little white crescent by his left brow.

“This really is him?” she asked nobody in particular.

Most avoided her searching gaze.

“I found him emptying the pharmacies of the berries.” Alexavier stated. “He tried to run when he saw me.”

Suddenly, Alecia started beside her. “Sir! Look at what he is holding!”

There was a flurry of activity as a number of mages detatched themselves from the arguing group and went to boil the Foxturtle berries, Alecia among them. Donovan was propped unceremoniously on a chair. The Warlock lost the argument to Brygid, as was usually the case when someone argues with her, and it was Aric that interrogated him, with several others watching. Rhian argued and had a compromise, ending up on a nearby chair with a blanket and a cup of coffee.

“What is your name?” Aric asked when Donovan came to. Rhian jerked when she saw his brilliant green eyes. The coffee she held trembled. She was so anxious that she did not register the trembling as hers.

“I am Donovan James Jensen.” He looked dazed, the black bangs falling forward to cover his eyes.

Rhian knew that Aric was using his magic. Aric was a telepathic mage and he was sending commands into Donovan’s subconscious to answer truthfully. Technically, Donovan was still asleep. No alarms sounded, showing the cooperation of the Warlock.

“What were you doing?” Aric continued.

“I was hoarding the cure. The base-born must all die.” His tone was flat and emotionless. There was almost no thought behind his words.

Someone gasped, earning a sharp look from many people. Base-born was a dirty term commonly used by mages to refer to those without magic. It was used commonly enough that even the non-magical knew what it meant.

“Who told you to do that?”

“I do not know.”

That got a lot of frustrated sounds from a lot of people. The Warlock shot Aric a surprised face. Apparently, he thought Aric could crack open Donovan’s brain easily and read it like a book.

“How did he look like?” Alexavier interrupted.

Donovan did not speak. He swayed a little. Then he finally answered. “Purple eyes. Its purple, everywhere. Rhian, where are you? Why did you leave me?”

Rhian was held to her seat by shadows. She would have gone to him the moment he said her name. Then she realized what everyone else had noticed. Donovan did not even look at her. His eyes were still unfocused.

Aric concentrated a moment and then shook his head. “It’s no use, sir. There’s a block on his mind.”

A susurrus swept the room as they conferred. Rhian crept close, unnoticed. When she finally stood in front of him, she asked, “How did you die?”

The words he answered her with were said without ceremony or hesitation. They shot to the heart like cruel arrows, hitting her guilt.

“Rhian Hondrea killed me.” 

There was a crash and the exasperated sigh from several annoyed people. That was the sound of Rhian finally allowing herself to faint.  
____________________________________

Even in the oblivion of sleep, there was no escape.

In her dreams, she remembered a day with Donovan. It was her happiest memory and she had tried to bury it when he had died.

“Rhian!” he laughed. “Even on vacation you are bringing garnets and rubies.”

She had shrugged at him. “You never know”

He had teased her of being too serious and she had shot back that he was too flighty, always dreaming of the future. It evolved into a funny argument, one where she always lost. They were in one of the other islands. The sand was everywhere. 

Then one of them had done something to offend seriously and Rhian had gone off in a huff, leaving Donovan alone near the beach.

She had wandered for hours before she realized she had gotten lost. Her sense of direction was never perfect. A Tauro, one of the animals that survived Dagmar, spotted her and decided to make her a meal. Rhian had run for a moment before remembering she had a garnet.

Breaking the garnet, a wall of protection came up and the Tauro stopped short. When the wall crumbled, Donovan was there, the Tauro was dead and its blood stained the sand purple. It was purple, everywhere.

“Rhian, Rhian! Where did you go? Why did you leave me?” he had whispered as he hugged her.

With a jolt, Rhian opened her eyes to find Aric shaking her awake and looking at her with kind eyes. At least he did not look pitying. She could not have borne that.

“You are needed. There’s a conference,” he said softly.


	5. Chapter 5

She was trying to be objective and rational. As calmly as possible, she chanted to herself. So far, she wasn’t succeeding.

“Bringing the dead back to life is not possible. The price is too high.” Bowie said flatly. He had discarded his foolishness when he saw how serious the problem was. He had been still in his workroom, trying to understand how such an accomplished mage as Arawn could get a backlash from a simple summoning spell. He had not heard the noise, or its reason until the conference was called by Alexavier.

“I did not say that.” Aric countered. He looked tired. “I said the reanimation of a persons corpse. There is a difference.”

They were in a spare conference room, with the three black opal mages, two fire opal mages and two lapis lazuli mages. The Warlock was present, listening to the theories being discussed with an avid ear. 

“You are not thinking properly, Aric.” Alexavier said. “Does a reanimated corpse have thoughts? Or feelings? Brygid just said he had emotions.”

At this point, Rhian spoke, “Can we stop using the word ‘corpse’? It’s giving me goosebumps.”

“What word do you want us to use?” Cecil asked in a patronizing tone.

Rhian frowned at him. She really didn’t like Cecil. Under the table, she held a jade to give her stability. The jade was there to give her a steady head as well as to stop her from throwing pearls at Cecil. Cecil, being the arrogant bastard that he was, probably deserved to be pearled at. Rhian tried not to think in that direction.

“Could it be possible to raise the dead?” The Warlock jumped in. “I mean, you keep mentioning a price.”

All the mages turned to give him a glare. He wasn’t welcome but as Aric had so delicately pointed out in the argument, it wasn’t their conference table. They couldn’t exactly ban somebody from it.

“We just said that too.” Bowie answered. “The price is too high. It can’t be done.”

“But what if the price can be paid?” the Warlock continued. “What is the price, anyway?”

Bowie was frowning but Alexavier looked pensive. 

“It’s the willing sacrifice of someone else. Someone willing to die in the stead of the person, as well as the energy source to tie the persons soul back to his body. It’s rather tiring.” Cecil said. “Nobody can muster enough strength to do that anyway.”

Valeria, a fire opal mage, specializing in the Rune magic, spoke up. “There was a certain document I read that mentioned Romanov. There was a rumor that he managed to bring back his wife from death, but she did not approve of the waste and killed him and then herself.”

Brygid snorted, a rare sound from the elegant lady. “Runes are unreliable.” Brygid was one of those that found memorizing runes day in day out to be a useless vocation.

Rhian was interested despite herself. “Really? And what price did Romanov pay?”

Valeria smiled at Rhian, pleased with the attention. “It was said that he killed their child. Their child was all too willing for her to come back. She could never forgive him for that though.”

“We are deviating from the matter at hand.” Alexavier interrupted. “How did Donovan Jensen die, as you saw him, Rhian?”

Rhian gulped. They had asked her this a lot of times already, but the guilt was always the same. “I-I saw him stop an airship from crashing on a building. He was using all of his strength and he did not see the rogue mage that was using light magic on him. I threw pearls at the Light Mage but I was too late to stop him from killing Donovan.”

“Did you see his corpse?” was the next question.

“No. It was crushed and buried by the airship that dropped when he died.”

That spiked off another branch of speculation. “Could he have survived that?”

“NO!” the usually mild Aric snapped. “He does not have any scars and his skin is not made from palladium.”

Everyone glared at everyone else.

The Warlock cleared his throat. The glares all transferred to his direction. “This line of thought seems to recur.” When he was sure that all was listening to him, he continued. “Our prisoner was a dead man that is somehow still alive. He is also a black opal mage. Does it not strike you as odd that he died as he did?”

There was a contemplative silence. Then Brygid said, “What do you mean, sir?”

“He was ‘killed’ by a light mage, an opposition to his shadow magic. Why was the light mage there so conveniently? Also, an airship crashed where he was fighting off a riot. Does it not strike you as odd? Everything seemed to have been orchestrated to “kill” him.”

Everyone considered that. Then Valeria spoke, “Does it not occur to anyone that it could also have been Rhian that was targeted? She was also there and more vulnerable than Donovan.”

Cecil nodded then stopped when he found himself agreeing to Valeria. Cecil would argue just to be contrary. “She couldn’t have stopped an airship.” He remarked.

Rhian glared at Cecil. “I couldn’t have stopped an airship, but I could have frozen it where it wouldn’t hurt me.”

Cecil grinned at the oblique threat Rhian had given him. He, apparently, didn’t find it much a threat.

“Actually, that is a thought, Valeria.” Alexavier said. “It could have been Rhian. She would have been a loss to us.”

Rhian gasped. “Sir, you say that as though Donovan was not missed,” When in fact, Rhian had not truly missed him. After his death, Rhian found herself lighter, unburdened by his demands and his wishes. He had always wanted all her attention, to leave none to anyone else. It was quite distressing to find out when in her memory she had been a devoted lover.

Brygid sent waves of calm to her, feeling her distress. “No, that is not what he meant child.”

“What did he mean?” the Warlock asked with interest. “Because that’s also what I heard.”

Rhian frowned at the sly man. She knew why he was listening in this conference. It was not to help. The Warlock would sooner shoot himself than help mages sort their troubles. It was the information he could glean about the said mages. She knew he already had a wealth of information just from listening to the frequent arguments.

“Rhian is the only Jewel mage in the world.” Aric explained. “Somehow, there seems to be only one in every generation.”

“Yes, Aric,” Bowie said softly, his eyes on the Warlock. “Thank you for telling that secret to the Warlock.” It seems as though Bowie also noticed the Warlock’s crafty nature.

Aric flushed. “Sorry sir.” Being too helpful had always been one of Aric’s problems.

They still had not come close to an educated guess, even with over two hours. “This is going nowhere.” Brygid pointed out.

Everybody agreed to meet later for more rational talk. Aric needed the sleep – he had been up since the news of the burned laboratories came. Everybody else needed the rest in order to develop fresh ideas.

Rhian could not rest, even without anything to do. She found that if she wandered, she ended up going near Donovan’s holding cell where she was expressly forbidden to go near by an irate Brygid and a pensive Alexavier

It was as annoying as anything. In the end, she approached Bowie.

“I’m going out.” She informed him. “I can’t stay here not doing anything.”

A number of mages had gone, along with several scientists and soldiers bringing the cure. It was Rhian’s plan to go to the quarantine and help.

She was halfway there when something large, with sharp talons landed on her.

“Hello, you deserter.” She greeted Calixte.

Calixte cackled. “Just say that you missed me. You don’t have to be ashamed of a little affection.”

Rhian scowled at the bird. “Shut up. Why didn’t you enter the headquarters? I could have used you.”

“You can’t get too dependent on me.” She stated. “I can’t hang around forever.”

“Calixte, what do you mean?” Rhian asked, startled. That was the first time that the raven had ever mentioned the future.

The bird blinked her golden eyes. “There is a storm coming, Rhian. It is the type of storm that can destroy.”

This time, Rhian really stopped walking in surprise. “Calixte!” It was the first time the raven had ever said her name.

“I thought you were helping?” the damn bird said , diverting her successfully.

The difference between doing quarantine and actually curing those plagued by the disease was the catching. Seeing as they were assaulted by visions of things they feared the most, a single touch would send them into frenzy. Plunging the needle in their body was easy. Making sure that the needle didn’t break by their wild bucking movements and pressing the cure in was another matter.

Alecia and Delta were particularly successful at this. Delta would hold the person down with her impressive strength and Alecia would do the injecting. Between both of them, they near about cured the entire mob.

The scientists watched this with quiet eyes. They just stood by the sidelines, pulling out the already injected and fussing over them.

By the time Rhian had been scratched, punched and bitten about ten times, she decided to leave the curing to those who had a strong partner and went to the fussing crew. There, Rhian did some curing in the non-conventional way. The scientists turned a blind eye to this and she smiled. If anybody had said something, she would have given them a lengthy piece of her mind.

Calixte watched this with amused eyes.

“You are working rather a lot for these people you don’t even like.” She remarked.

“Not one more word from you.” Rhian snapped.

The evil bird cackled.

It was half-way through gathering her things that Rhian heard a crying. It was so faint that Rhian used a Rainbow Opal to hear properly. It magnified the sound and she managed to pinpoint the location.

“What is that?” Calixte asked, peering at the child.

“It’s a girl.” Rhian said, stung by the birds tone.

“No.” Calixte answered incredulously. “That’s a boy.”

Indeed it was. The high cheekbones and the long fair hair were misleading. At her touch, the child quieted and stopped crying.

“He’s not ill.” Rhian said with surprise. He did not have the fever, or the delirious movement of the eyes that were characteristic of those plagued.

The raven flapped her wings in irritation. “Of course he’s not ill. He’s seething with magic. But he’s not going to last much longer. He’s going to die soon if you don’t do anything. Its starvation acting on him and almost being trampled to death. His mind is also suffering from shock. ”

Bloodstones can cure anything not magically caused. But they were so few of them that using it made Rhians heart ache. She procured one then, placing it on the boys forehead and watched the bloodstone melt away as the boy started to breathe better.

“He must be pretty important for you to use a bloodstone.” Calixte pointed out.

“You said he needed it.” Rhian snarled. She was being pushed to her limits. “And don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

The raven cackled. “I can’t roll my eyes.”

“I can feel it!!”

“Where are you bringing him anyway? He’ll alert the magical detectors the moment he comes near them. He’s bubbling with uncontrolled magic.” Calixte hopped closer and Rhian felt the urge to push the bird away. Magical or not, Calixte was still wild.

“The pharmacy is untouched,” Rhian answered. “I left rubies around it to stop magical influences. I couldn’t leave any garnets though. I hope it hasn’t burned down. I’ll bring him there. Nobody ever told me to stay in the enemy camp.”

As she carried him to the place she had called home for ten years, she felt a fierce protectiveness in her for a strange boy she barely knew.


	6. Chapter 6

Warmth on her body woke her up. Somebody had placed a blanket around her shoulders.

“You were shivering,” a childish voice said politely.

Looking to the source, Rhian found herself looking at eyes so light blue that it looked like ice. Words drifted in her mind to describe it. Ice…Silver and moonlight.

“You’re awake.” She said, struck quiet by his eyes. She usually had a testy temper when she just woke up. Then she realized he was wrapped in her old dressing gown. “How long have you been awake?”

He shrugged. It emphasized his slender shoulders. “A few moments ago. How do you get food?”

Rhian moved mechanically, her body aching from the other day’s excursions. “I’m Rhian.” She said, waiting for the reaction. 

The boy just nodded. He apparently, did not recognize her as Rhian Fire-Hair.

“I’m Hakel-Ann Amefraurs,” he said.

Rhian’s brows went up all the way to her hairline and beyond. “You are of the seafolk?” They usually had odd names that had a lot of “k’s” and “h’s”.

The boy nodded again. “Yes. My parents…..” his expression was sad as he trailed off.

She handed him a mug of steaming hot chocolate. “They were killed by the mob?”

He nodded once more. Rhian was beginning to think that speaking was something he didn’t like to do. He certainly seemed content to let his sentences hang and let her connect the dots.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” she asked.

Hakel-Ann shook his head. “My parents’ ship, only they know how to pilot it. Other than that, there is no other way to return to the Roka.”

“Roka?”

“The under-city.” He clarified, puzzled by her ignorance.

Seafolk were almost unknown in the mainland and barely mentioned by the islanders. The only thing known is that they built a city under water using magic so advanced that it was said that the seafolk taught Dagmar. The seafolk also rarely went up.

Rhian served him nutria-sticks and more hot chocolate. 

“How did you find me?” he continued.

“You were crying.” She shrugged, imitating his gesture. “Honestly, I don’t even know how you are still alive.”

A topaz ring shone briefly and distracted Rhian from her unabashed staring of Hakel-Ann. He was so pale and colorless that she had to wrench her eyes from his exotic figure.

“What?” she said to the ring. Hakel-Ann goggled.

“Where are you?” came Alexaviers voice.

“I’m in the pharmacy. My duties are finished, right sir?” she said the latter tentatively. She wasn’t sure if she was being disobedient or not. Technically, she was supposed to be in Sector 18 until told otherwise.

“We have a problem, Rhian.” It was Brygid. “Donovan is missing.”

Rhian’s fingers went numb and Hakel-Ann looked so worried before several jewels kicked in and gave her a clear head, preventing a faint. She breathed in. “Gone? No struggle? Just vanished?”

“They’re doing a scan. So far, nothing is showing up. I told them I felt no magic, but they still brought out those wretched detectors. I know you don’t like it, but could you come here again? Even for a moment?” Brygid said it like a request but Rhian knew it was an order.

“I’m on my way, lady.” She answered.

Rhian was half-way through getting dressed and chewing on a nutria-stick at the same time when she realized a problem as Hakel-Ann stared at her.

“I don’t have anything for you to wear,” she told him with dismay.

He looked worried. “Am I a bother?” he asked.

She sighed. “No. But clothes….” An idea entered her mind. “Let’s go to the storeroom. I can do magic there. You’ll have to do with my clothes.”

It was a basic enlargement spell that Rhian used, tweaking her own clothes in the right places. There wasn’t much difference between her build and his, but even his shoulders were broader than hers. It came out looking odd but Hakel-Ann did not know the fashion and did not complain.

“Do you have a hover-craft?” he queried.

Rhian was shocked. “Do I look like I’m the type of person who uses hover-crafts?” she gasped. “Only idiots buy hover-crafts. The fuel for it is enough to feed a family for a year!”

He stuttered apologies while she scolded him. On his biggest finger was a ring that suppressed magic. It prevented his magic from leaking out and causing a general ruckus in Sector 18. Alecia met them there, distraught and irritable. Rhian sighed. A distraught and irritable Alecia was annoying.

“Bowie is a paranoid old man!” she announced. “He went and grabbed Delta and – Oh! You are of the seafolk aren’t you? It’s the paleness that gives it away. Where did you come from?”

She led them to where Donovan had been held, all the while talking so quickly that Rhian only managed to place in a word or two edgewise. Rhian knew it was how Alecia was when angry.

Contrary to what Rhian thought, there were a number of scientists holding magical detectors. She wanted to say something about that when something caught her eye.

It was a small, glowing portion of the wall that looked like it was drawn on with golden dust. Rhian wasn’t a mage finder but she knew magic when she saw it.

“Bowie,” she said. “I see magic.”

One of the scientists glared at her. It was obvious the man was a Mainlander with his height, fair skin and dark hair. It also showed in the flat way he spoke. “Miss, nothing is showing up on the screens,” he said bluntly. Bluntness was the way of the Mainlanders.

She frowned at him with immediate dislike. “You’re sticking it in the wrong place. It’s only a small part of this wall. He must have used it as a portal.”

“Rhian.” That was Delta, speaking carefully. “I’m a mage finder and I can’t see anything.”

Rhian, on the verge of losing her temper, was saved from answering when Alecia rushed in, grabbing Hakel-Ann.

“What on earth are you going to do with Hakel-Ann?” she asked instead.

“I’m testing him. You said that Calixte said that he was seething with magic. Don’t worry!” she yelled, running off with the boy. His expression was some way between mild amusement and complete panic.

“It must be jewel magic of a specific kind.” Bowie concluded, speaking for the first time. His words brought Rhian back to the matter at hand. “Jewel magic is different, you know?”

She realized what he meant. “No! Bowie, I was in the pharmacy the entire time. Sir, I am not lying.”

“I know.” His eyes were kind as he said it. “You are never known for your disobedience. The only thing I can think of is another jewel mage alive.”

This was met with silence.

“Old Lady Jenkins died years ago sir,” she said, just to clarify. Old Lady Jenkins had been her teacher in jewel magic.

“Rhian,” Delta interrupted. “Donovan was said to be dead and is now missing and believed to be alive. What are the chances of another dead mage turning out alive?”

It was a thought. They contemplated this for a while, the scientists glaring at their little huddle.

They were interrupted again by Alecia.

“Sir!” she cried.

“Oh dear,” Bowie remarked. “Nothing good ever comes out whenever people start with ‘sir’.”

Alecia continued, too excited to comment on his reaction. “Pardon me. This boy! What was your name? He’s a magical bomb! He can do so much magic. I think he can do almost everything, except jewel magic and herblore.

There was a flurry of talk, each mage shouting over the other. Rhian knew it would upset Hakel-Ann. She knew him enough to know that loud noises upset him.

“He’s from the seafolk – “

“What can he do?”

“He’s so pale…”

“SILENCE!” Bowie snarled. It was such an unusual tone coming from him that everybody ceased their talk.

“Boy, what is your name?” he continued.

Hakel-Ann’s ice colored eyes had been wide before. When Bowie addressed him, it turned round. “Hakel-Ann Amefraurs.”

“Hacchel-ane?” someone repeated, enunciating the name slowly. “I heard he was a seafolk hero.”

He flushed. He was so pale that it was a rather red color. “Yes. My parents were Tellers – keepers of our history. They wanted me to be like Hakelan the brave.”

“If he can do all that,” Alecia continued. “Think of the other seafolk. They must be bubbling with magic and have nobody to teach them.”

Rhian placed a hand on Hakel-Ann’s shoulders. They were trembling. Those thin shoulders made Rhian feel protective.

“Hold on a moment,” she protested. “Ask him if he wants to learn before you think to arrange his life, let alone the life of his entire race.”

Bowie nodded with approval. Alecia flushed. It would have been awkward had not Hakel-Ann himself shaken his head.

“No,” he told Rhian. His shoulders had stopped trembling. He was holding himself up with sheer obstinacy. “No,” he repeated again. “Magic….we were told that it was evil and dangerous. But I see so much good here. I…..I wish to learn. I do not wish to be killed like my parents.”

Rhian felt proud for him.

Lessons were planned. Most of the mages forgot about the matter of Donovan, so great was their excitement of the tutoring of Hakel-Ann. Only Bowie’s shuttered face showed quiet grimness.

Rhian kept an eye on the magic only she could see. She wanted to jump in the magical circle and see where Donovan’s portal led to but she knew Bowie would not even entertain the thought of a yes. They would all consent to search for him physically than risk losing her to unknown dangers. It made Rhian want to tear out her hair.

“Don’t even think about it,” Bowie told her softly in an undertone. “I’ll place ill-chance around here just to keep you away.” Evidently, he had been eyeing her the entire time.

“But Bowie…”

“No, Rhian. If you vanish, all knowledge of Jewel Magic goes with you,” he said softly but firmly. 

Rhian scowled and walked off, telling Hakel-Ann where to find her if he ever needed her. She went to the roof. Whenever she needed a clear head, she went to a rooftop, no matter the smog.

“Did somebody die?” a dry voice asked her.

Rhian found herself looking at the Warlock. Her scowl deepened. Normally, she was frightened of the small man but she was too irritable to even care that it was him.

“That is not the most tactful thing to say to me right now,” she informed him bluntly. “If you want a fight, go downstairs and find Cecil. He’s always open to a good brawl.”

The Warlock looked amused. “Peace, Fire-Hair. Are you always so hard to talk to?”

“Are you always where people don’t expect you?” she shot back. “Stop asking questions, why don’t you!”

He laughed. He actually laughed!

“You are always angry whenever you talk to somebody who doesn’t know how to deal with magic,” he observed astutely. “Why are you always so prickly?”

Rhian snorted. “There, you see! Another question! The fellow can’t seem to stop asking them.” Then she went serious. “Please leave me alone. I really need to clear my head before I kill somebody by accident.”

The Warlock left her alone, but not before shaking his head at her in a manner that said she was clearly doing something wrong.


	7. Chapter 7

People who enter into a profession they love never really leave it after the job is done. It went the same with Rhian. While she tried to keep Hakel-Ann busy with a herb lore scroll, she opened her jewelry box and reacquainted herself with all her jewels, starting with Amber. She did it so as not to think of anything, or anyone of import.

She spoke to it, whispered to it and the gemstones responded. It filled Rhian with power and contentment, something she had not felt in a long time. Dutifully, she did the exercises that her jewel magic teacher had taught her and she did it then by habit.

“Amber, a friend used to speak to spirits,” she whispered and the gem in question sang. “Bixbite, “she continued. “A friend used to remember what could be forgotten. Aquamarine, a friend that gives energy and health. Amethysts…”

There were twenty common gemstones that were the tools of Rhians trade. Several others were not so common and did not need the exercises for Rhian had it in her heart. Then, she placed magic into her black opals, in case she would ever need the extra push. Slowly, she felt her magic grow back.

“What are you doing?” Hakel-Ann asked. He was always quiet and unnoticed until he spoke.

He had been so quiet that Rhian did not hear him enter her room. Fortunately, she was used to being surprised by Calixte, so she barely jumped.

“It’s a jewel magic thing,” she explained. When he said nothing but look curios, she added, “Gemstones need assurance that you are still friends, you see? If I don’t do this, I’d spend ages reintroducing myself to them if I ever need their help.”

“You speak of them like they are humans,” he commented.

“They have their own personalities. Each of these fellows was made differently and that affects their personalities. Take the natural Diamond, for instance.” She raised the clear diamond for him to see. “They are made by being pressed and heated and pressed. It gives them a creative imagination, with a willingness to help.”

Hakel-Ann looked bemused. “Are there gemstones that would never help?”

Rhian sighed. “There’s one that would never help you if you insulted it. A Sapphire. They’re touchy things, but powerful.”

He touched the jewelry box, undaunted by the sight of so many jewelry glowing and singing in cacophonies that only Rhian could hear. Then he found the false bottom and tried to lift it up.

“No,” she told him with a bluntness that could have passed for a Mainlander. Putting it back, she added, “Don’t open that. That’s the testiest of them all, and I want to eat first before I deal with that fellow.”

“What is it?” he asked, quite intrigued.

She shrugged, mimicking his gesture. “Later. How is herb lore going for you?”

Hakel-Ann showed her where he was stuck. “This inscription. It is in Runes?”

Rhian gave a closer look. It was several marks in the Runes. There was a whorl, a straight line with a dot and the picture of a person with a star drawn inside them. Translating it slowly, Runes were never her strong point, she understood the gist and felt a vague sense of amusement.

She had not noticed it was there, but then again, when she was being taught by her herb lore teacher, they had ignored scrolls and went right ahead with practical application. She and Old Doughal had had the same dislike to sit still and just read from a scroll.

“It’s a post script. It says that most of these herbs are magical and their strength can be further enhanced by magic from the user.” Rhian was about to shrug and caught herself. “So it means that a mage drinking herbs with magical properties will be affected better by it than non magic users.”

He looked amazed. She could tell by the slight widening of his eyes. “Truly? Did you know of this?”

“Old Doug might have mentioned it in passing. We really spent more time on our knees, facing a dozen pots and pounding them to bits or boiling or stuff than reading scrolls and doing Runes,” she answered. Then she added, “Runes are boring. They make my eyes hurt.”

Hakel-Ann laughed. Together, they had breakfast and she gave him a practical application of herb lore in the store rooms. She had him pound and grind and measure and was delighted to find out that he was no stranger to crouching and working.

“In the Roka,” Hakel-Ann said when she mentioned his lack of complaint. “The children were tasked to collect from the sea. My friends would go to the magical wall and catch fish. I would go to where there was a rare collection of large krill. I would sit and wait for hours and then they would swim by. I had to catch them quickly, and occasionally get bitten for it.”

Rhian leaned forward, avid but not quite forgetting that he was supposed to measure two cups of Foetid Cassia. “What are krill?” she asked, eyeing his measuring cup.

He shrugged. “The Tellers say that they used to be small, too small for any of us to see. Then the years changed them and they became bigger and bigger until we could also partake of them as a meal. It used to be only fish eating them.”

She slapped his hand away when he over poured, pinching several together and placing it back in the bowl. “Don’t get carried away with talking. Measure it again.”

When he restarted, she watched him with extra care. Satisfied that he was doing it correctly, she asked another question. “What do you wear, in the under city? I mean, I heard that the continent is cold in some parts and hot in some. The Twelve Islands are mainly like that as well, except here in Moswen island, where it is always raining.”

Hakel-Ann poured Cowhage next to the Foetid Cassia, taking care not to jostle the mixture. When the delicate procedure was done, he sat back and considered her question.

“Hair,” was the unexpected answer. “The children grow long hair and when they reach a certain age, it is sheared away. There is a clan that is an expert in making it into clothes. But we have to move carefully, because it breaks easily.”

Rhian looked awed. “Jewel Lights! That’s why you move like that. It’s like watching water flowing. There no contradiction in your movements, just harmony and balance.”

Hakel-Ann looked self-conscious. “I did not know that.”

She laughed and made him heat up Oleander to make him forget his embarrassment. It was a delicate procedure since every bit of the Oleander was poisonous and they did not talk. When they moved on to another safer herb, this time, it was Hakel-Ann asking the questions.

“I keep hearing this mention of a war,” he said, by way of starting it.

Rhian did not shrug, or twitch irritably but she was tempted to. His habits were catching. “It started seventy years ago,” she replied. “And it went on for another fifty years.”

“Why?” 

“Because the secret finally came out, that there were mages hiding in the fringes of society,” she answered irritably. “Then Sector 18 wanted to find out how many we were and they had a registration. We were all required to sign up. Then one by one, those who registered were tortured for the secrets of the mage craft. But of course, nobody talked! We all took oaths when we became mages.”

Hakel-Ann rescued the Coriander that Rhian was pounding to pieces in anger. “Go on,” he said. “What happened next?”

“Those were bad times,” she said, her voice cracking. “The mages who helped the government were watched suspiciously by the very people they were helping and hated by their own fellow mages. Then the Resistance, the Rogue mages, were all pretty cruel to the non magic users,” she sat on her haunches and stared at the glowing quartz. “That war is one of the reasons why there are very few of us left. Then when there was a change of leadership in Sector 18, things changed too. The Warlock was different, sly and smart but open to suggestion. Because of him, things ended faster.”

“Placed that way, the Warlock doesn’t sound so bad,” Hakel-Ann commented.

She snorted and said, “Of course. But a lot of mages died because of him as well, so I am not very happy with him.”

“Maybe he was trying to end things quickly, you know?” he suggested.

“Who’s side are you on?” she demanded.

He raised a hand in surrender. Then they stored the herbs and sealed the medicines. Calixte flew in, sniffed the air. “It smells like a forest in here,” she remarked. 

“Where have you been?” Rhian asked, not bothering to ask what a forest was.

“None of your business,” the bird cawed harshly. “When is he being taught magic?”

At the question, Hakel-Ann also perked up. Rhian felt a hint of amusement and pressed it down. He was more eager than anything. It made her wonder if she was ever that enthusiastic.

“I cannot tell. Maybe later, Bowie will send me a call. I can’t teach him my type of magic anyhow, so I taught him herb lore.”

Calixte cackled. “What about Basic magic? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that as well?”

Chagrined, Rhian had indeed forgotten Basic magic. She started him with baby steps, first the levitation and then affecting objects not within the line of sight.

“It helps if you send your senses out like wave,” she told him when he looked frustrated. “Focus on your center. The thing about mages is that we attract power, depending on our capacity. It is up to us to use it. So no matter how powerful you are, you can be defeated by someone with lesser capacity than you if you do not have the skill and delicacy in handling your said power.”

His brow cleared, that frustration had been the strongest emotion she had seen him display so far. Then, after some thought, he managed to float around some jars. He laughed and it came falling down. Calixte swooped in and caught it before it could break.

“Don’t break your concentration,” Rhian told him. “There are others who have mastered this and can do it in their sleep. Again.”

She worked him at it until she saw fatigue clouding his face, however valiantly he tried to hide it.

“Go to the stalls,” she ordered. “It works every time.” The stalls were small, cylindrical shaped rooms, with enough space for a person to just stand in. It was hot or cold, whatever you preferred, as it washed away your dirt and grime. Nobody really used water since it was very hard to come by. The stalls had replaced the baths when the water shortage came to attention.

“He’s good,” the raven commented. “Almost as good as you.”

Rhian smiled at the oblique compliment. Calixte never gave direct compliments if she could help it. “I started young, when I was at my most obedient age. He is not quite so obedient, perhaps he never was and he lacks imagination.”

“I don’t need imagination,” the bird started just to begin an argument.

“You don’t have one,” Rhian interrupted. “You’re a bird.”

Calixte didn’t peck her, but it was clear by the way her beak twitched that she was thinking about it. “Donovan,” the bird said abruptly.

Rhian’s shoulders sagged, her face losing the forced cheerfulness. “Please don’t. I’ve tried not to think about him,” she said. It was a soft voice, one that Rhian never used.

“You’ll go mad, keeping it to yourself. And who would I talk to?” It made sense. Who would take a bird seriously anyway? There was a reason why people said featherbrain. And Calixte, though had a sadistic sense of fun, never blabbed about anything and her stubbornness was at par with a black opal gemstone.

Rhian remembered all that and arranged the thoughts that she had tried to keep at bay with work. Calixte was uncharacteristically kind and serious.

“It was always very…hard to keep up with him,” Rhian started haltingly. “Donovan had ambitions and dreams and he always moved fast.”

“You like to keep moving, but not too quickly,” Calixte added.

“Yes!” she nodded. “And then, he always got jealous whenever I paid more attention to something. He never even took me to a jewelry shop because he did not want competition.”

Calixte let out a hoarse sound of derision and self-mockery. “And here I thought you were moping about not being able to talk to him. It turns out; you’ve been guilty ever since that airship squished him.” She did not notice when Rhian winced at the word squished.

“How did you find out about Donovan, anyway?” Rhian asked. “You weren’t even in Sector 18.”

The raven gave a cawing laugh. “You forget how sensitive my ears are. And then there is always Hakel-Ann. His mind does not have a mental shield, unlike yours and I heard his thoughts clearly.”

Rhian sighed and absently collected quartz stones in her pockets. The raven watched until she caught Rhian’s attention again by flapping her large wings. “You’re guilty. Why?” she asked bluntly.

The jewel mage blushed. “I don’t know! I – I was so relieved when he was dead!” she burst out. “Then he turns up alive and I’m afraid, so afraid and I don’t know why!” She sat down abruptly and fingered her fire opal ring. “Do you think there is something wrong with me?”

This was serious. Calixte flapped down until she found a perch where Rhian did not have to crane her head to look at her. In the silence of the store rooms, sounds intensified: the sound of a rare hover craft crossing over head, the screak! of something that needed to be tightened.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Calixte said. It was the most serious Rhian had ever seen her – and the angriest. “I meant to tell you, but I did promise you that I would never interfere with your life. I always found Jensen to be a bad lover. He demanded and took. He never gave anything back to you. And you! You never fought back. You are the smartest and most temperamental mage I have ever known and you let him ride roughshod over you!”

She shivered. The revelation was a surprise and not a pleasant one. “Wha - ?”

“Nothing!” the raven continued, clearly on a list. “You can’t argue with this one. Ask anybody with sense who saw the two of you. Ask Brygid! Nobody wanted to say anything, because you were obviously in love, but really! If he hadn’t vanished by himself, I would have pecked his eyes out eventually.”

There was a shocked silence. Rhian tried to understand it. Comprehension was slow but eventual. It was the longest speech Calixte had ever made on her behalf and it was not to drive her crazy but to make her feel better. 

Rhian swallowed and finally managed a weak smile. “I didn’t know you cared,” she whispered.

The bird, probably embarrassed by its own outburst – except who can tell? – flew off without another word. Rhian sat in the darkened store rooms, and let out near hysterical laughter.


	8. Chapter 8

“Gareth!” Rhian cried as his familiar, kind face was shaped into existence by the holographic call. “How is Menefer?”

He grinned. “Hot. Very tropical. My skin is now darker. How are things there? No news is filtering though here.”

Rhians smile faded. “It’s complicated. The plague is ended but more things are cropping up.” Such as lovers who were meant to be dead but were, in truth, alive, she thought but did not say out loud. “I would feel better if you didn’t come here.”

Gareth’s eyes were concerned. “Is it dangerous?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

She sighed. “I’m fine. I just feel stretched. The pharmacy had been doing well though.” Then her eyes lit up. “One of the seafolk is here. He’s brilliant with herbs, considering the fact that he has never seen them before.”

Rhian was rewarded with Gareth’s eager laugh.

Gareth had an addiction to the seafolk after his wife drowned. He did every research to prove they existed.

When the call ended, Rhian sighed again, more deeply this time. She missed his common sense. He was like Calixte without the annoying attitude. Calling him through his nano – speaker was a brilliant idea, though it made her miss him even more.

“Who was that?” Hakel-Ann asked. He had entered Gareth’s workroom without her knowledge.

“Gareth. He owns this place. He went away to avoid the plague.” She scrutinized him. “Are you alright? You look a little pale.”

That actually managed to extort a smile from him. His smiles were rare, seeing as his parents just died. “I’m always pale. Are we going now?” the last was said with slight eagerness. His first lesson on magic and he was as eager as anything. Underneath that façade, Rhian knew he was nervous but wouldn’t dare show it to her lest she change her mind.

The lesson would take place in the Zuhar, seeing as it was functional again with Bowie in it. Rhian had received a call on her topaz after the revealing afternoon with Calixte. A problem came from the number of mages wanting to teach him. He was a novelty and they wanted to see how much he could do.

Only Bowie could regulate this. Alexavier and Brygid remained in Sector 18. Rhian did not envy them the position. All that time she had spent in the “enemy camp” had been done grudgingly. Even using their beds had made her wince.

“In a moment,” she told him. “Where is Calixte?”

“In the storeroom.” He looked so miserable that Rhian laughed. The boy was scared stiff of Calixte, however hard he tried to pretend that he wasn’t. “She laughed at me too.” He added, which only made Rhian laugh all the harder.

“I’ll fetch her. Put on your windbreaker. It’s a cold night.” Rhian managed when she recovered.

She found Calixte in the storeroom doing crazy aerial acrobatics. “You ought to be kinder to that boy. He’s done nothing to you,” she told the bird as Calixte settled on her shoulder.

Calixte cackled. “Exactly. He has no backbone. I don’t like cats. I want tigers.”

Rhian rolled her eyes. “I’m afraid to ask what on earth a cat and a tiger is. Anyway, where were you yesterday? You never answered that question last night.”

The raven made a sound like broken circuitry. It was her version of a snort. “You don’t feed me. I had to hunt. And you had the boy. You know I don’t like babysitting.”

Both of them made no reference to the incident in the store rooms and Rhian felt better that way.

The journey to the Zuhar was slightly amusing. Calixte terrorized Hakel-Ann and he tried his best not to appear not quite so terrorized, but every once in a while his eyes would wander to Rhian, giving her a faint pleading look. That look always drove Rhian on the brink of raucous laughter.

Calixte eventually took pity on the boy and flew up. Her excuse was to look ahead and Rhian tried her best not to snort.

“What and where is the Zuhar?” Hakel-Ann finally asked. “I hear it every time but it seems that nobody truly knows…..”

“Of course they don’t” Rhian said incredulously. “If they did, we would have all died out a few centuries ago.” Then she continued in a more thoughtful tone. “In fact, nobody in the world knows where the Zuhar is. It’s in a space pocket, a place where nobody unfriendly can go to. If somebody placed a tracking device on the mage and the mage entered the Zuhar, it would malfunction. Technology just can’t survive there.”

Hakel-Ann’s eyes were wide. “Who placed it in the space pocket?”

Rhians eyebrows went up. “That’s a question! Actually, I think Romanov did. He’s a genius in portal magic and time magic. I don’t think that kind of working exists now. The knowledge is lost. We really are too few and there are very few Runes.”

“How does it look like?” he asked.

Rhian’s eyes took on a dreamy look and her tone became one that people used to describe an obsession. “The building was created during the time of Dagmar. Four floors are underground and its nine floors above the ground. It’s as wide as an airships landing site and as airy as Menefer. A lot of mages rest in the upper floors. Most of us are souroush –“

“Souroush?” he interrupted.

“Wanderers, usually mage-finders. There are 15 portals among the islands and nearly 700 portals in the mainland, situated in different points. Bowie’s task is to maintain all of them. It’s a hard task to be a mage-finder and they usually come home exhausted. There’s a common room to talk in since silence is demanded half the time. Supplies are underground. It’s everlasting and we never run out of food. School rooms are underneath the common room.” She paused to give reverence to her words. “But it’s the crystals that make the Zuhar.”

“The crystals?” Hakel-Ann asked with the same reverence.

“It’s imbedded in the walls, these tiny little crystals. It works better than any light. The place is brighter than any building created these days.” Both of them sighed at the picture.

“We’re here.” Calixte announced, landing suddenly in front of them and startling Hakel-Ann.

Rhian had tried to brief Hakel-Ann regarding the strange feeling of using a portal but she knew that nothing can quite compare to the feeling of being dropped from somewhere very high and then wrenched sideways – as though something large and strong had picked you up and placed you in another area. She watched him closely but he did not look any paler than usual, but with Hakel-Ann, you never knew. He was just so damnably stoic.

Within the Zuhar, he was whisked away by an excited gaggle of mages towards the schoolrooms. Hakel-Ann gave Rhian a look of complete alarm. She tried not to laugh. If she had been greeted by the same number of mages, she would have felt alarmed as well. Silently, she offered him a prayer of luck to whoever god was listening.

Bowie appeared out of nowhere and sat beside Rhian with a tired thump! It was a kind of thump that spoke volumes.

“That bad huh?” she asked him.

Bowie groaned. “The souroush are flooding in. Some are even offering to sleep in the storerooms and the schoolrooms.”

Rhian winced. The schoolrooms were cold to the point of discomfort and the storerooms were worse.

“It was a mistake to shut down the Zuhar for even a day.” Calixte remarked.

Bowie looked at the bird unlovingly. Calixte snipped at him as she flew by, giving out a few cackles. “That creature has absolutely no respect,” he complained. “She’s clearly a by-product of a failed experiment somewhere. That would probably explain how mad she is.”

Rhian visibly agreed but privately thought that Calixte was something else.

“How are things going?” she asked instead to stop his whining. It was the wrong diversion. It launched another series of grumbles.

“It’s going nowhere!” he cried. “The admiral just returned and the negotiations are going in circles.”

She made a face. “So my help was wasted?”

Both of them abused the admiral and the chancellor for a few moments. It was a refreshing feeling. Then Rhian had to ask the question she dreaded.

“Donovan?” she queried.

Bowie looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. Still no news. But all the souroush are searching, and those that can be spared are doing scrying.” Rhian had been forbidden to join the search seeing as she was emotionally involved. It irked Rhian to no end and she wanted to tell everyone that she wasn’t the type to emotionally breakdown. She didn’t feel anything for Donovan except a sense of guilt, confusion and irritation. She wanted answers from him.

One of Bowie’s ornaments flashed and Rhian was stopped from saying a bad word. It was a topaz. Rhian loved topaz. You could do anything to it. It transmitted words better than moonstones and held light better than quartz. It was also the most responsive stone of the entire lot. It didn’t have a black opal’s stubborn streak or a diamonds overly creative suggestions.

“Hey,” she said, calling attention to the head cap. “Your topaz is flashing a call. Did I enchant that for you? It looks familiar.”

Bowie shrugged. He unclipped the head cap and settled it on the table. Immediately, an image sprang to life. She looked a lot like Emlyn and Rhian tried to place a name.

“Kolina,” Bowie greeted, identifying the mage for Rhian. “What news, Dreamwalker?”

A Dreamwalker could tell the future through dreams. They were so rare that they were valued. Kolina must have been pretty independent to stay away from the Zuhar for such a long time. But they were also so unstable that half the news they brought was discarded.

“Sir, do we have purple-eyed mages?” was the first thing she asked. Rhian blinked. She expected statements, not more questions.

“No, dear. They died several hundred years ago. Purple is an odd color anyway.” He added the latter with a shrug. Rhian kicked him.

“I dreamed of a purple-eyed mage using a plague to wipe-out the population from the twelve islands,” she said. “Mages also died sir. It is not Taliesin’s plague. It is something for us also.”

“That is all?” Bowie asked.

“Yes sir,” she answered. Then the image winked out of existence. Bowie placed the head cap on calmly.

Rhian waited but Bowie did not speak, merely looked pensive. Finally, she asked, “You don’t believe her?”

“She said old news. The plague is done,” Bowie said sidmissively.

Rhian did not think so but she didn’t argue. One didn’t usually argue with a senior mage, especially if it was Bowie or Alexavier because you were sure to lose the argument. With Brygid, you didn’t try to argue at all. The mere fact that it was Brygid you were talking to made sure that you would already do everything she asked. Then it occurred to Rhian…

“Sir!” she gasped.

“What?” Bowie asked warily. “You only call me that when you have a problem.”

“No sir!” she punched him on the arm. “Purple-eyed mages! Didn’t Donovan also mention purple eyes? What are the chances that this is a coincidence?”

Bowie was inclined not to believe her. Rhian wanted to punch him several more times til he listened to sense.

“I’ll tell the others,” he said finally as a compromise.

They enjoyed a few shared tales of the old days and several other mages joined them. Rhian watched all of them with a quiet sense of pride. They were a family. A little oddly matched but a family nonetheless.

Then Hakel-Ann came over, looking exhausted. However, his eyes shone and that was all she needed to see. She had never seen him so happy.

“How was he?” she asked Delta who followed him.

The muscled mage looked awed. That was a rare thing when it came to Delta and Rhian could not help but feel even prouder.

“He’s brilliant!” Delta managed. “But he has the attention span of a flea. He’d shift from one subject to the next and remember everything else.”

Rhian’s eyes were wide. “I wouldn’t call that a fleas brain,” she answered. “Fleas probably don’t have much attention but they don’t have his memory.”

Hakel-Ann flushed red. “Don’t speak as though I am not here,” he said in protest. “You are doing that on purpose!”

Both women laughed. “No, dear boy,” Delta told him fondly. “We are proud of you. Nobody can do that much magic and still live.”

“Magic is like an explosive element,” Rhian added after seeing the consternation on his face. “If handled wrongly, it would hurt you. That doesn’t happen much. But handling too much would cause a burn and it would damage a part of you for most of your life. That’s what Delta meant.”

Hakel-Ann looked thoughtful. Then he finally said, “So I am odd, even by your standards?”

“What do you mean, child?” Bowie asked. He had been eavesdropping on the conversation.

“I am considered odd by the rest as well,” he explained. “Things happen around me. I mean, I once caused a quake to happen just by thinking about it.”

Rhian was surprised. “That’s thought magic!” she squeaked. “That branch of learning was closed off centuries ago because of the dangers those that studied it presented. Once, a thought mage dreamed of a fire and his entire house burned down, leaving him unscathed.”

Rhian immediately regretted her impulsive words. Hakel-Ann looked daunted.

“It’s not like that these days, child,” Bowie interrupted, shooting Rhian a look that said behave! “Thought magic can be controlled now. You just have to ask Rhian for a fire-opal that can suppress your magic.”

“Don’t panic,” That was Calixte. She had appeared again without warning. “The old magic is being revived. The cycles are repeating. Things that were unlearnt are being relearned.”

Calixte was sometimes prophetic. Rhian had noticed that several times. Perhaps when you had seen so much, and just observed, things get predictable. Especially when you are a bird.

“Can’t you ever speak clearly?” Rhian asked the bird irritably. “One time you told me to watch where I lit a jewel and I found myself talking to a hundred year old ghost that was living in that jewel.”

Hakel-Ann looked interested. “A hundred year old ghost?” he asked. Rhian scowled at his interest and he grinned, unabashed.

Calixte gave no answer. She gave her usual evil cackle.

On the way home, Hakel-Ann was quiet. It wasn’t his usual sort of silence. It was a pensive sort, the type that is just filled with heavy thoughts.

“I am afraid to ask what you are thinking,” she remarked.

He flushed. “Your pardon, Rhian. Those mages teach so much and there is so much to learn. I wish to know everything.”

A fissure of alarm shot through her. “Don’t. Please don’t think like that. I mean, a thirst for learning is wonderful, but a wish to know everything is what lead to the fall of Dagmar.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking contrite. “I – I was told of the story but I did not think it was true.”

Rhian was outraged. “Those mages taught you magic yet neglected to teach you the history?”

At the shake of his head, she launched into a detailed description of Dagmar and how it fell. He listened attentively.

“How do you know so much?” he finally ventured to ask.

Rhian was still passionately irritable. “Because I was taught by a sensible old mage who covered everything at a normal pace. Honestly! They are so excited at the prospect of teaching a novelty that they forgot to cover the basic magics!”

Hakel-Ann agreed to have Rhian as a teacher for the more detailed history of Dagmar as read through the runes. 

When Rhian finally found herself alone, she settled on the topmost part of Gareth’s roof and contemplated her situation while she stared at the street lights that floated in the night sky. She seemed to have become a mother and a teacher and a part-time caretaker all in one week. It was rather a lot of responsibility in one moment.

“Don’t brood.” Calixte said. “You’ll hatch eggs.”

Rhian was so used to the ravens sudden appearances that she wasn’t surprised anymore.

“Going somewhere? You’re usually asleep by this hour.” Rhian asked the bird.

Calixte shrugged. “I need to eat some more.” With that, she flew off, leaving Rhian alone on the roof.

A dark shadow dethatched itself from a nook made by one of the tall pillars and solidified into a shape that was distinctly Donovan. Rhian was late to notice him. She was wearing no jewelry and was unable to defend herself from his assault.


	9. Chapter 9

It took Rhian a few moments to realize that she wasn’t dreaming. She had dreamed of him often, mostly out of guilt, since he went missing.

It truly was Donovan and he was bringing a very rare jewel whose properties were to hypnotize. More accurately, to put to sleep another persons waking mind – if the jewel was asked politely and nicely. It was called a padparadscha – a rare type of sapphire that had an orange tint in its heart. It was also the testiest gemstone she had ever studied.

By the time Rhian realized he was real, it had been too late to make the padparadscha turn against Donovan. It would have been a simple task too. She merely had to say a few words of endearment and the jewel would have allied itself to her in a heartbeat.

She awoke, tied to a bed. Upon inspection, she was thoroughly alone, in the sense that the only ring she was wearing when she had last been conscious, her fire opal ring, was missing. No magic was used to watch her – she would have felt that. Further investigation yielded that all four of her limbs were tied to the bed with a rope spelled against magic. No matter what she did, she could not use basic magic to undo herself, nor could she wriggle herself free despite how small her hand was. The knots were done rather expertly.

If you had never been tied, you could not have understood how Rhian felt at that moment. It was frustration and irritation with a dash of desperation tinged with a bit of hysteria. She had been in times where she needed all her limbs. To have all of them incapacitated was majorly disconcerting. She had to free her hands at least but no matter how hard she tugged, it would not break loose.

Rhian fell back on an ancient method of releasing feelings. For the first time in her life, she cursed. She released two paragraphs of creative swearing, mostly words she had overheard soldiers say. If Gareth had heard her then, he would have blushed. Some of the words she used were not complimentary to men. When she was finished, she had accomplished nothing but she felt immensely better.

“I ought to swear more,” she remarked to herself. “I don’t know why I didn’t do it before.”

Having all that emotion out helped immensely and she could already think calmly and sensibly. 

Rhian rationalized that if she could not use basic magic to untie herself, she could use basic magic to influence something to untie herself instead.

Rhian used her magical senses to find something sharp. It wasn’t easy to do tied to a bed in the most uncomfortable position ever conceived, especially if using her magical senses was something she wasn’t so good at, but she eventually found something. It was the bedsprings.

Only the really old-fashioned beds still had bedsprings and Rhian sent up a prayer of thanks as she used more magic to bend and twist the wire into something she could use. 

It was hard work and her concentration wasn’t at its best. The bed went squeak! squeak! every time she tugged mentally until finally a sharp bit of wire worked loose. Rhian sighed in relief when it dropped to the floor. Then she levitated it to where her right arm was tied and got to the real work.

The wire wasn’t exactly built for cutting, no matter how sharp it was. But Rhian was determined and very irritated. That irritation fueled her magic as she worked it on the rope. It also gave her several injuries whenever her concentration slipped and the wire sliced her skin instead of the rope.

When the rope was frayed enough that the runes written on it could no longer work, Rhian used brute force and raw magic to undo herself. She had to pause from the effort. Raw magic was magic unformed and very dangerous. Rhian rarely used because it was a crude and childish method. It also tired her easily.

She examined the bare room physically and found everything locked. Even the air vent had several runes scratched on it to prevent magic. Only the outer wall, a place not within her line of sight, was not marked against magic. To affect that would require a vaster sense of the basic magics – which she did not think to study.

“I’ll have to wing it,” she sighed.

Using an inborn instinct, she tried to talk to metal to release her. It was different from talking to jewels. Jewels had distinct personalities that made dealing with them almost amusing but metal was cold. It was also hard and as stubborn as a black opal.

It took almost an hour, by then Rhian was close to giving up and just kicking the door when the lock went snip!

“Finally!” she snapped. “Now where in the twelve islands am I?”

She started to explore cautiously but peering around a number of rooms in bare feet on a cold floor, is unadvisable. She tore apart several curtains she came across and used it as makeshift shoes. 

“Among all the things to remove,” she muttered as she walked. “Why shoes? Shoes!”

Rhian had tried to do conjuring for some jewels the moment she was conscious but something was stopping her magic. It was as though all her magic was going somewhere else, being sucked into an endless void from which there was no end, or certain return. It didn’t hurt like an injury. It was more like a constant toothache, or a headache that kept pounding softly, not hurting exactly but more like letting its presence known, telling the brain that, “Yes! I am here! Try and let me go away, I dare you!”

If she had a ruby, she could have stopped her loss of magic. Rubies were good fellows that disliked outward magic. They could have stopped her magic from being sucked elsewhere.

Rhian had turned three corners and walked several corridors before she realized that all the stairs she passed by were leading down.

“Typical!” she cried out. “Lock the princess in the tallest tower. Whatever happened to the classic dungeon? Or perhaps outdoor cages got too expensive to build and spray with lime once the acid rain got diagnosed.”

She stomped down the stairs angrily and blindly, her anger making her incautious, running over her common sense. She walked along, making turns and doubling over dead ends. It took her several moments to understand that she had entered a maze, and by then she could not, for the life of her, remember where the stairs were. The walls were high and white.

“White!” she exclaimed, remembering how easily she got lost in Sector 18 even with a map due to the white walls. 

“This will take me forever!” she groaned. Her alarm was surfacing and finally making her rational again. Thoughtfully, she placed a left hand on a wall and started walking.

\------------------------------------------------

Sector 18 dealt with the misuse of magic. More or less, it captured mages that even used magic so blatantly, be it for good or bad. No magic-user in their right minds would even step foot in it willingly. Currently, two of the most powerful mages in the world were inside, arguing and trying to change the law against magic. At the moment, it was a hopeless case and even Brygid, the most patient woman in the twelve islands and called the Lady of Peace in sotto voice by her own people in the mainland, was getting irritated.

It was mostly due to the animosity between the magical populace and the non-magical ones that gave the difficulty of change. Too many had died to change the fact that magic can do things that a laser gun can’t and that a laser gun doesn’t make the user tired at all, unless the user has been up for several days, pulling the trigger repeatedly.

So when the detectors started blaring alarms, everybody glared at the two mages. Both of them raised their hands in defense, saying that they had not used magic at all. Nobody noticed a dark bird with golden eyes soaring in and landing on the conference table.

“There you are!” Calixte cawed.

Everybody within hearing a hearing range jumped for the ravens voice was harsh and grating on the ear. It reminded one of nails drawn across an old chalkboard, of a throat sore and parched, of a hot patch of land filled with sand mainly found in the lower islands.

“Calixte!” Brygid said in shock, for Brygid was well and truly surprised. She and everyone else had known the fuss that Rhian had raised when the damned bird would not even touch the roof of Sector 18 and now, the aforementioned damned bird was on a conference table inside the headquarters.

“You are causing this disturbance? Would not the use of a topaz ring or a moonstone ring have sufficed if a message was required?” Alexavier demanded irritably.

The bird, normally, would have cackled evilly at this point, for she had no care at all to whom she spoke to. However, the matter was serious.

“Of course,” she said instead. “I’m a changer after all and a change exudes a slight magical disturbance. It is too faint to be detected far away but this near I am your main problem. And anyway, I cannot trust any jewel from now unless it is Rhian that is holding it.”

“What?” Both mages gasped. “A changer?”

“Yes, yes,” she said impatiently. “Get that through your thick skulls because I have far more urgent news. Rhian is kidnapped.”

“What?!” Brygid blurted out again. “Rhian is not easy to kidnap. It would far faster to kill her instead.”

“Yes, I know that,” the bird looked faintly amused. “And that boy is headed here looking for her as well. He’s like a burr, that one. He never stops for a minute,” she added the last sentence in a matter of fact tone.

Alexavier had a face like stone but even he was pursing his lips at Calixte’s words. Brygid held a hand to her head as though to hold in everything that Calixte had said. “Wait, could you slow down, Calixte?” she pleaded. “What was that you were saying about jewels?”

The raven looked derisive. “I think this would go faster if Bowie was called to here. That fellow has a brain like a sieve.”

At some other point, one of the mages, probably Alexavier, would have snapped at Calixte for her impertinent tone. But it was evident that her request made sense, even if it was phrased in the rudest possible way.

“You called?” Bowie’s voice came from a moonstone ring on Alexavier’s hand. No alarms rang. Rhian’s type of magic was extremely hard to detect.

“We have a problem,” Alexavier answered. His voice was mild as butter. Calixte cackled at the look on his face.

“Is Calixte there with you?” Bowie asked. “Nobody else can laugh like that.”

“She is. And she has news.” 

Calixte talked. For the space of five minutes, while she brought the black opal mages news, the conference room steadily got filled with people. Bash and Emlyn wandered in, eyes huge and curious. An important looking fellow opened a nano – speaker and called the Admiral and the Chancellor. The Warlock himself entered and had a recording device. None of the mages paid them any attention.

“How do you know all this?” the Warlock interrupted. “Pardon me, but this seems to involve us as well and, well, all I see is a bird.”

If looks could freeze, the expression that Brygid gave the Warlock would have made him an iceberg instantly. But it was Alexavier that answered, much to the shock of the people. Their experience of the shadow mage was his silence and lack of emotion.

“Just a bird!” Alexavier cried. “She is a changer! The rarest form of magic, and the most dangerous.”

Calixte had been holding back a laugh. At that statement, she could no longer hold it off. She cackled long and loudly. “You better tell them,” she cawed. “They ought to know.”

Alexavier scowled but Bowie agreed. “The advice is sound,” he said.

Brygid took that as an affirmative and answered the Warlocks question. “Changers live forever, as long as they stay in animal shape. They get more unstable every year until they can no longer return to being a human.”

Calixte gave a ravens version of a nod. “I have lived for a very long time, enough that I have learned again how to talk. If you’ve lived as long as I have, you start to notice some things that just tend to repeat, like that old flood several years ago, it repeated again earlier this year with the same results.”

“The same?” the Warlock interrupted, fixing sharp eyes on the bird.

“I don’t make mistakes often. Check your databases. The casualties are the same, down to the number of people dead, injured and missing.”

Everybody held their breaths as someone checked it. When he turned awed eyes to the bird, it was all the answer they needed, but it still had to be said.

“She’s right!” the technician said with reverence. 

“Why is that?” Bowie asked. “I remember that flood. There was no magic involved, though Delta and several elemental mages were brought in for questioning.”

Calixte released a hoarse cry of impatience. “You do not think straight! Oh! Where is a Rune Mage when you need one? These fellows cannot detect all types of magics, just as you cannot detect some certain types of magic. If you remember, it was Rhian that knew jewel magic. 

“There is another type of magic that you have forgotten. It is called thought magic. That magic has a sort of skill called “Recurrence.” It is more or less the repetition of something. It gets more frequent until it stops altogether.”

There was a babble of noise. The Warlock called for peace while Alexavier questioned the bird further.

“Hakel-Ann has thought magic.” Brygid noted.

“But he is rather young to have caused the first flood. It happened a century ago.” Calixte snapped.

“Pardon me.”

Alexavier shot her a look of amusement. “Do you have a thought as to who is causing this?”

“Not just a thought. I know who it is.” The bird gave a rattle of pin-feathers. “It is Romanov. There is no doubt about it.”


	10. Chapter 10

Rhian was getting tired.

The cold had been seeping through to Rhian’s makeshift shoes when she saw Old Doughal. He was her old herb lore teacher. She was also told that he had died in the Registration War, when everything was thought to have ended but was actually just a rest for far more terrible things.

“Doug!” she greeted with some shock.

The old man’s eyes looked at her blankly. It gave her a pang when she realized that his eyes no longer sparkled. That was what she had loved most about the crotchety old bat, even when he had been at his most cranky.

“Who are you?” he asked politely.

Rhian stopped short. “I’m Rhian! Rhian Hondrea! You’re student?”

He shook his head. “Pardon me. I truly don’t remember you.”

“I was apprenticed to you for a year,” she insisted. “Then you shunted me off to another mage because you said I tried you with how fast I learned things.” 

When he still looked polite and clueless, her temper started to return. It gave her a renewed strength. “Where are we?” she asked abruptly.

“This is the Good Place,” he answered dreamily.

Rhian gritted her teeth but she had to leave him with the promise of returning. Finding how to get out was far more important than humoring an old man with no memories and almost no magic.

When she met Old Lady Jenkins, her old jewel magic teacher, Rhian started to have a clue on what was going on. Rhian knew that Lady Jenkins had been crushed by laser guns during the Registration war.

Heilyn and Isolde proved her theory to be true. They were fire-opal mages that died when their airship crashed in the sea. They too had no memories and very little magic. They too believed that they were in heaven.

“If this is the Good Place,” she snapped at Isolde. “Then I am going mad. I know I’m still alive. One of us has to be right and I refuse to believe that I am mad.”

Someone was stealing mages on the verge of death, probably taking away their magic and memories then leaving them to die in a maze, recently. Rhian had met no bones yet and she prayed that she would not see any.

“If this doesn’t end soon,” she said, walking even faster due to irritation. “Then I am going to use raw magic to break something.” Then she added, “And it has to end soon before I go mad! Talking to myself…”

\----------------------------------------------------------------  
It was an odd sight.

Twenty-odd men, the most important men in Sector 18, some in nano – speakers just to listen to a large golden-eyed bird talk and be interrogated by a compact looking, oriental man with hair and beard so long that they could have been tied around him twice.

The aforementioned raven was currently being glared at by the oriental man in the most chilling and expressionless manner possible. It made some of them shiver.

“Do not jest.” He stated flatly.

“I don’t,” she answered automatically. “And Romanov is still alive.”

“He lived several hundred years ago.” Brygid murmured apologetically to the non-magic users stirring behind her. “He’s a magical legend.”

A glare from Alexavier made Brygid close her mouth. 

“Regale us,” Issued Bowies voice from a moonstone ring. “You cannot say those words without sufficient proof, Calixte.”

Calixte flapped her wings in agitated annoyance. “Is not my testimony proof enough for you? I was there when Dagmar fell! I was the last survivor as the cursed fires consumed all living and non-living things on the mainland. Ah! Where is a Rune Mage when you need one? There are runes that speak of a tale of a mage that found immortality. That tale was real and the mage was Romanov! He used the Dark Arts to learn everything and he fell.”

“He is a Thought mage? The runes never speak of it.” Brygid asked.

“He knew a lot of magic. If one specialty did not work for him, he made it work for him. Nothing was too difficult.” Calixte answered.

“What about Jewel magic?” Bowie asked.

“He knows it too. He used a blood pact to change the allegiance of the gemstones.” She said. 

This information was heavy and if Rhian had been there, she would have shrieked in indignation. A blood pact was forcing gemstones, in the vilest way, to acknowledge you. Gemstones technically only acknowledge those they liked. To force them was akin to removing their will.

They were interrupted by a buzzing sound from a Nano – speaker whirring to life. “Sir, there is a boy here who claims he has to speak with the mages,” a voice said into the eerie silence of the conference room.

Calixte clacked her beak. “That has to be the boy. I told you he was coming. He knows where Rhian is.”

Like a spell breaking, people started talking again. Bowie’s voice broke through the noise. “Rhian was taken?” he growled.

Brygid and Alexavier had momentarily forgotten about Rhian. The news of Romanov was overwhelming for a mage.

“I clean forgot!” Brygid gasped. “What are we going to do with Rhian? Wait, Calixte, you told us about Romanov for a reason, right? Is he the one who took Rhian?”

The bird looked as pleased as its evil face could allow it. Hakel – Ann entered, led by a scowling soldier. 

“I know where Rhian is, and she is very angry.” He started, then fell silent, seeing the number of people in the room.

“How do you know that, boy?” Bowie asked.

Calixte clacked her beak again sharply. “And I thought you were smart!” she said in a harsh, derisive tone only a creature with her voice could manage. “He is a thought mage. He linked with Rhian when she took care of him. You can tell where she is now, wherever she goes, right boy?”

“Y-yes,” he stammered. “But her magic is going away. She is getting weaker.”

There was a round of argument. In all the chaos, nobody noticed Calixte flying away. Hakel-Ann looked as calm as ever and listened to the adults. 

“We can’t just leave her there.” Brygid cried out. “And something is taking away her magic! That’s – that’s – that’s sacrilege!”

“I agree,” Alexavier murmured. 

“I don’t!” Bowie said. It was a reasonable tone. “Consider it carefully. She is held captive by Romanov! The Romanov.”

Hakel-Ann did not stop to listen to more but went away. His magic had made him intuitive and he understood that no one would be going after Rhian. He exited the Sector without drawing the attention of anybody except a golden-eyed bird. 

He was vexed and he didn’t like the feeling. Hakel-Ann was of the seafolk and they found emotions to be bothersome things. He blamed it on Bowie. Seafolk were rarely irritated.

The boy did not frown. Outwardly, he was completely devoid of emotion. Inwardly, he was a seething mass of childish rebellion. He wanted to do something. He had only been with Rhian for a day and a night and already he found that he liked her. She did not pester him to talk like most of the Islanders. She saw through his calm mask but did not even try to coddle him. Her inability to stay still had also rubbed on him.

“You’re not a mage you know,” a hoarse voice interrupted his thoughts.

Hakel-Ann barely had time to register the voice as Calixte’s when the bird landed heavily on him. Her sharp claws dug into his shoulder, making him pay attention.

He winced as the talons gripped him for balance. “How so? I know magic,” he stated.

Calixte flapped, hitting his ears at the downstrokes. She didn’t need hands; her wings were painful enough to box a person’s ears. “Bowie neglected to give you a medallion. You are not a mage or even an apprentice. You are still of the seafolk.”

Hakel-Ann was not a genius, but he got the message that Calixte was trying not to say.

He left the bird on a perch and went to where he had known a hidden portal would be. He knew it was hidden and glamoured and only his magic connection to Rhian made him aware that it was there. Nobody else could have seen it.

“Take me with you,” an unknown voice interrupted him just as he was testing the edges of the portal with his toe.

Hakel-Ann looked up and saw gray-green eyes on a man with reddish blonde hair. The man was familiar in the fact that Hakel-Ann had briefly glimpsed him in Sector 18. He was unfamiliar in that they had never exchanged two words with each other until that moment.

“Your pardon?” the boy was startled into asking.

“You are going after Rhian, aren’t you?” the man asked. “Disobeying orders after the spectacular argument that the mages had about rescuing her?”

Hakel-Ann liked the way the man said it and he grinned in response. “Technically, they have no right to order me,” he said. “I am not a magicians apprentice seeing as they forgot to give me the medallion so I am not obligated to follow their orders. They can’t blame me anyway. I wasn’t there when they gave the order. I didn’t know it until now, when you told me.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, the man laughed. “You have a way with bending rules! I’m Emlyn. And I know who you are.”

Hakel-Ann smiled. “But I do not know who you are. You are a mage?”

Emlyn shook his head. “No, but I need to do Rhian a favor. She saved the lives of a lot of people. She’s famous, you know. A commercial airship, not a cargo ship, was attacked by rogue mages. Rhian was the first mage to react, stopping the fall.” Seeing the boy’s confusion, he added, “A commercial airship has thousands of people in it. One of them was me.”

Hakel-Ann’s expression cleared. “I know about debts and repaying it,” he said. “My people have unsaid rules about never having to owe somebody something. I think you are right in wanting to come with me.”

A new voice interrupted them. “And you are both fools for not thinking ahead.”

Emlyn laughed while Hakel-Ann’s friendly expression dissolved into polite blankness. “You found me after I evaded you, sir!” Emlyn remarked cheerfully. Then he saw the polite confusion on the boys face. “This is Bash Savakis, chief of the tenth division of Sector 18.”

Bash smiled at the boy in greeting, softening his rugged features. Then he glared at Emlyn. “Fool. What good will you do, haring after her when you don’t even know what to do?”

Emlyn shrugged. “I don’t know. I did bring a laser gun.”

Bash seemed to stare at Emlyn’s cheerful face and drooped. “Alright! You don’t have to act so bloody cheerful. It annoys the hell out of me and you damn well know that. I’ll cover for you, but you better come back in one piece, you crazy ass. This is what happens when you start thinking that mages aren’t so bad!”

Hakel-Ann bowed to him while Emlyn was busy congratulating himself. “Thank you for your help, kind Chief. I will tell Rhian of your help.”

They vanished into black shadow. Nobody saw a bird shaped darkness plunge in after them.  
\----------------------------------------------------------

Rhian felt it before she saw it.

She had been feeling something sucking away her magic ever since she had entered the maze, and it probably explained why all the old-supposed-to-be-dead-mages she met were almost without magic. If it went on longer, she knew that the magic-users would suffer a magical burn and that was the most dangerous thing of all. A magical burn hurt worse than anything and it wasn’t even anything physical. A magical burn also resulted in the inability to wield magic, for the rest of the mage’s life.

When she finally reached the center of the maze, she saw what was taking away magic and she fell in love immediately.

“Oh, you beauty!” she cried out, forgetting all her pain. She forgot the cold, the hunger and the irritating feeling of the magical suction. She only saw a black orb made of seamless black opal. It was about the size of her head and raised on a pillar.

She had only seen it in Runes, but even without Runes, she knew its name. The black opal sang to her greetings and cacophonies in a language only a jewel mage understood. It was the lodestone of Dagmar.

“Can you help me?” she whispered to it like a mother soothing a child. “You’re hurting me, you know.”

The lodestone tried but it was under someone far more powerful than Rhian. She knew a blood pact when she felt it. She almost wept at the violation on such a beautiful orb.

“If I have my full magic, without you sucking it away, I could free you in a heartbeat,” she coaxed it. 

The black opal radiated distress. 

“Stop that,” a man’s voice barked. “Whatever you’re doing is making the lodestone vibrate.”

Rhian found herself looking at an intimidating man with purple-eyes, broad shoulders and limbs like tree trunks. She did not know why but she instantaneously distrusted him. Anger and fear rose up and gave her defense.

“it can’t be me, since I’m the expert in magical stones,” she snarked. “And nobody in their right minds ever sneaked up on me.”

The man looked angry. “Let’s just say that my sanity is not in question here. You are arrogant for such a young sapling. Let us state names first and trade blows second.”

“Rhian Hondrea, Jewel Mage,” she said curtly.

“Romanov, expert on all magics but specializing in Jewel and Rune Magic,” he said, just as curtly.

Rhian’s jaw did not drop but she managed to bite her tongue.

“You’re pulling my leg,” she said flatly.

“I don’t jest. It makes me shorter,” he answered back, not missing a beat.

She blinked. She had finally met someone who traded words as they came and it had to be a psychotic magic-user.

“Then explain what we are doing here?” she asked, recovering. “The Romanov I know is a genius in regards to magic.”

“At least that survived,” he remarked. “I am taking strong magic-users and using them to fuel the Lodestone. When it is ready, I will unleash a plague strong enough to destroy those who mock magic. And Dagmar will rise from the ashes.”

Rhian felt bile rise in her with every word. She had to concentrate not to be sick. “And those you sacrificed? I do not think they were willingly taken, if I am to go by my own experience.” She struck at him using Basic Magic.

Romanov deflected it with a twist of his hand. It wasn’t strong enough anyway. Halfway to him, the Lodestone took the magic and it absorbed it. Still, it was the act that made him angry.

“Impudent little witch!” he snarled. The strength with which he answered her attack slammed her against the nearby wall.

“I saved them from death!” he snapped at her. “Time magic has been forgotten and Portalling is all but a flimsy copy of my teleportation techniques. I used that to save their sorry lives from a war that you started.”

Rhian tried to sit up but failed. Dimly, she wondered why and did a check on herself.

Physically, winded.

Mentally, confused.

Emotionally, terrified.

All in all, a bad combination when in a life threatening situation.

“They did not ask to be saved,” she answered him to hide her confusion. She made it easier on herself by letting her mouth go on auto pilot with the insults. That was easy. “They did not ask to be saved, but you save them. I understand that. In exchange for their lives, you take away something with which they spent half their lives on. Did you even ask them?”

His grin was feral. “I do not need to ask. They wandered in here, just as you did.”

A thought struck Rhian, giving her renewed anger and thus, strength. “It was you! You sent Donovan with the padparadscha! Only you could have known its use other than myself – unless you asked Old Lady Jenkins, which I highly doubt.”

He did not need to answer. The look on his face was enough.

With a shriek, Rhian threw raw magic at him. It had enough force to bring down a building. But with the Lodestone absorbing all magic, it was enough only to stagger him.

Irritably, he yanked her hands and slammed her against the wall. He was strong, even without magic.

“Do you know why there is only one Jewel Mage every generation?” he asked her conversationally.

She shook her head. The renewed burst on energy she had was used up. Despair and betrayal and confusion were creeping up on her. 

“Jewels are difficult things. They can answer only to one master. They choose their allegiance. Me? I made myself a Jewel Mage. I soaked that Lodestone in my blood and so it is now completely loyal to me.”

Rhian gave a strangled hiccup. She could not quite manage a laugh. “No.” she whispered.

Romanov became still. “What?”

“If I had my magic in its fullest form, I could have changed that Lodestone’s allegiance with a snap of my fingers.”

He threw her across the small space, slamming her on the opposite wall, but Rhian was already starting that phase in her battle fury. She was starting to be hysterical.

“What about Donovan?” she giggled.

Crystals were trapping her feet and with them came the faint smell of blood. Rhian found the crystals that wouldn’t hear her to be more painful than the bruise that was starting to cover her entire back.

“Liar!” he snarled.

“I don’t lie,” she gasped. “It frizzes my hair.”

The intent was in his eyes. He was angry and she knew he had enough strength in him to kill her without using his magic. She knew that he could have killed her then, but she could not resist that last crack.

“Foolish young sapling,” he said softly. The way he said it was far more terrifying than all of his growls of anger because it was said in such a rational tone. “I offer you a chance to better the lives of all the mages, and you refuse.”

Rhian struggled to sit up, failed, and just lay back, staring at him with the calm of the doomed. 

“I would not be party to anything so atrocious,” she whispered. “But what is the point? You are taking magic away by force and that is the most horrid thing you have ever done.”

Before Romanov could deliver the killing blow, a black streak appeared before her, managing to throw him off with a streak of white light. The light merged with the black streak, showing familiar golden eyes and black feathers.

“Calixte!” Rhian was surprised into shouting.

The raven slowly changed. The feathers shrank into her body and she slowly grew taller until she became a young woman with black hair and golden eyes. Her features were sharp, almost like a hawks, and the golden eyes were keen. Her red lips were turned down in a stern frown.

At the sight of her, Romanov froze.


	11. Chapter 11

“Helenka!” he exclaimed, sounding surprised and a little angry.

Her frown deepened. “You’ve been naughty, Romanov.” The voice that issued from her mouth was soft and not at all like the hoarse cawing of the raven she had embodied seconds ago. This surprised Rhian so much that she made an involuntary jerk. That brought the woman’s eyes to Rhian. “Got into another trouble, eh Rhian?” Then she gave a grin that reminded Rhian of the raven. That smile thawed Rhian’s shock.

“So you were a changer? I always suspected,” she said instead. “Who are you?”

Helenka gave another Calixte-like cackle. “Yes, I also knew,” she answered. “You are always too smart for your own good. I’m his wife.”

Rhian gasped and tried not to too shocked. “Wife! But – “

Romanov interrupted. “What are you doing here, witch?” he snarled. “You are always sabotaging my plans.”

“Only the uneducated resort to name calling,” she retorted calmly, not at all intimidated by Romanov’s growling voice.

“Rhian!” a young voice called out. 

She turned and saw Hakel-Ann hurrying towards her. She paid no more heed to Romanov and Helenka’s conversation, knowing that Helenka would protect her if things got magically troublesome. On Hakel-Ann’s fingers she saw the glitter of rubies and sighed with envy.

“Are you alright?” he demanded.

It was the strongest emotion she had ever seen on him and she immediately felt better.

“I need only a ruby and you can leave me be. Uhm, it would help if you distracted him for a moment,” she whispered to the boy.

“You can leave that to me,” Emlyn remarked. He had crept up on them, unseen.

Rhian sat up quickly and winced, forgetting the pain on her backside. “Emlyn! What in the jewels name are you doing here?” she exclaimed. To her surprise, she blushed. She attested it to the warmth of the ruby Hakel-Ann slipped into her finger but she knew she was lying to herself.

“Returning a favor,” he answered, winking at her. “I owe you my life, Fire-Hair.”

Then the infuriating man went and confronted Romanov, shooting his laser gun with an accuracy that was astounding.

“He is, uhm, rather fast,” was all Hakel-Ann commented. 

“You mean he ignores people’s opinions, yes,” Rhian muttered irritably. “If he manages to get himself killed, I’ll kill him.”

The boy only blinked and had the presence of mind not to smile. Then he turned to watch the proceedings and quickly placed as shield spell to deflect a stray laser beam.

The magic workings caught Romanov’s attention and Hakel-Ann was dragged into the fight. Rhian watched in frustration while her magic slowly started to return to her. When she deemed herself strong enough, she used a summoning spell to call her jewelry box to her side.

Placing on several rings, she watched as Emlyn was sent flying over a maze wall and Helenka was too slow to dodge a blat of raw magic. When all the rings and bracelets were on her person, she removed the bottom of the jewelry box and revealed jeweled hairpins and the crown that was passed from Jewel mage to Jewel mage since the fall of Dagmar. 

The crown was made from different metals and imbedded with dozens of natural gemstones and heavy as anything. It was also the color of sunset. That was what had earned her the nickname of Fire-Hair. 

With her power returned, Rhian easily broke the crystals holding her imprisoned. She was on her feet, unsteady, angry and, for the first time since entering the maze, equipped to deal with it.

“Why don’t you fight someone your own size,” she snarled at Romanov, who was shaking Hakel-Ann with one hand.

Romanov glared at her. “This brat? He is Domani’s bane! A failed experiment. His kind were locked away underground where they could not taint anybody with their demon magic.” He turned his glare on the boy. “How did you get out?”

Hakel-Ann went had a look on his face that made Rhian nervous. “Experiments?” the boy whispered. His hands shook where he clutched at his throat to prevent Romanov from strangling him. “Demon magic?” the thin arms suddenly went thick and sprouted hairs. 

Rhian watched in amazement as Hakel-Ann became a gorilla, not seen since the last turn of the century. The gorilla was strong and agile and at par with Romanov when it came to physical combat. 

Romanov staggered back and barely saved his head from being knocked off the joint when the gorilla gave him a quick swipe, its claws glinting. He instead got large claw marks on his shoulder. Romanov stopped in shock. Apparently, nothing ever made him bleed.

Hakel-Ann seemed not to notice the blood. He continued changing into another animal that Rhian had not read about but was sure had died several centuries ago. This one was obviously feline and had a thick mane, making it seem like a king. It took a large piece of flesh from Romanov’s other shoulder.

“Enough!” Romanov roared.

He transmuted a rare sapphire with a reddish tint in its heart into a knife. At this point, Rhian moved forward to interrupt. The awe was gone and urgency replaced it.

Quickly, she coaxed the sapphire to change its allegiance and it crumbled to ash. It was synthetic. Rhian laughed. Changing, she could not help with. Jewels were her specialty and she reveled in it.

“Hag!” Romanov growled at her.

“Name calling isn’t mature,” she informed him before she launched herself at him, using chrysoberyl to try to bind him in greenish chains.

He dodged this, barely managing to escape the pearls she sent at him. Using a secret whisper, she made the pearls explode by his feet, blinding him. When the smoke cleared, he was no longer there.

“Coward!” she snapped irritably.

A knife slipped at her throat and placed pressure. Somewhere, Hakel-Ann whimpered in warning.

“I am never a coward,” Romanov informed her. “Now, transfer the allegiance of that crown to me and I’ll spare your life.”

Rhian gripped her jade’s to bring her a clear mind, blocking fear but her mind was blank. She was very tired, even with her magic back, she had exhausted herself. Then she found that she could not move. Shadows gripped her.

“I can remove that crown for you, sir,” a cheery voice remarked.

Rhian gasped. “Donovan!”

Shadows pulled her toward her former lover as Romanov removed the knife from her throat. She looked into his eyes and knew that he was acting with his own free will. She felt strange, lighter and a hell lot angrier.

“Why?” she growled.

“I can ask you the same thing,” he said softly. “Why do you persist in helping the base born when you know that we are superior to them?”

She struggled against the shadows that held her. “Superior? Cut us and still we bleed red! We are the same! There is narrow-minded, single-minded and stupid. Take your pick.” She called light to the topaz stones on her crown and it broke the chains of darkness that held her. She leaped away, taking stock of the situation while she kept a firm grip on her pearls.

Romanov had placed a hand on the lodestone and Rhian knew he was somehow asking magic from it. Helenka was, as near as Rhian could tell, unconscious. Hakel-Ann was a large red setter, nosing her anxiously. Emlyn….she saw the glint of silver and pretended she did not see the laser gun. He was hidden in the darkness, watching and waiting for his chance to fire.

“I forgot,” Donovan said amiably. “The only way to kill a jewel mage is to remove all her jewels.”

Rhian’s smile was brittle. “And the only way to kill a shadow mage is to place him in a room of light.”

Both of them knew that was impossible. Keeping a person alive was hard, killing them was easier. Only one person would come out of it alive.

What happened felt like it lasted years, each, magical working dragging on Rhian’s energy. In reality, it was only several minutes. 

Donovan was fast and strong. His magic was not being sucked away by a lodestone. Also, he had no qualms about damage. Rhian lost count of the number of times she leaped away while the floor cracked, shadows bursting through it. 

She was efficient with her jewels. She didn’t needlessly throw pearls and break garnets. She used transmuted gemstones and broken pieces of rock to hurl in his direction using Basic Magic. But she was tired.

Donovan evidently knew this and persisted. Rhian’s eyesight was already blurring with exhaustion and she knew she would lose.

“Why did you even allow yourself to be caught?” she asked him.

He looked derisive. “I was told by the Master to see whether you were well protected or not. When I got to where you were, it became evident that none of you suspected anything amiss, because you were undefended.”

A shadow rope darted toward her and Rhian reflexively threw a glittering topaz there. Donovan winced. “Now you’re playing dirty.”

“I don’t remember rules being laid out,” she shot back.

Donovan was preparing another shadow whip but a red laser beam shot him straight to the chest. Emlyn evidently found his shot. The spell for the shadow whip went out of control and hit something behind Rhian.

She felt it before she turned around to check what it was.

“YOU FOOL!!!!” Romanov yelled but she could not place her attention to him. Honestly, she did not care if Romanov was alive or dead.

Numbly, Rhian looked at the lodestone and found a hairline crack on it. The damage wasn’t external. Something inside was broken. Romanov could not feel the pain of the lodestone, but Rhian could. It keened softly in her mind and she moved before she was aware of what she was doing. She had him bound in diamond chains. Diamonds were hard headed but worth the effort after they listened.

“I ought to kill you,” she snarled at him. “Bowie would forgive me for it.”

Donovan laughed, blood spilling from his lips. The laser gun had missed the heart by a few inches. “Bowie would not give a damn,” he said. “That old fool has more blood lust than I.”

“Liar!” she screamed. She tightened the chains of broken diamonds, making it so that it would cover his mouth.

A hand at her elbow made her realize that she was shaking with - she did not know what - but she was shaking violently.

“Please, keep him alive Rhian,” Emlyn whispered to her.

If it had been someone else, they would have received a sharp retort. But it was Emlyn.

“Only for you,” she snapped. She used emeralds to shoot health straight to him. The small hole that was pouring out blood was slowly closing. Carefully, she pulled the diamonds back so that he could breath but not speak.

“Thank you,” Emlyn told her. He gave her a dazzling smile, making her feel better. “Come, let’s have you seated. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

In the end, he had to carry her to the nearest wall. Rhian found that her legs were wobbly. The battle was done and the adrenaline had left her weak and almost breathless.

“Romanov?” she asked.

Emlyn sat next to her. “I saw the entire thing. I mean, I knew that if I showed myself, one of them could easily squish me so I stayed in the shadows.”

Rhian felt laughter bubbling in her throat. “Emlyn, how little you trust your sister! Do you remember the health ring? Name of the Jewel! You forgot!” she collapsed with laughter while Emlyn tried not to feel too sheepish.

“True. But you wanted to find out about Romanov?” he tried to divert her and she took pity on him and tried to reign in her laughter. She bit her lip and placed on a somber face, if you did not see her eyes glittering with amusement.

“Go on,” she said when she could trust her voice not to wobble.

He gave her a stern expression that nearly had her in giggles. “While you were busy with – “ He gestured to Donovan who was in unbreakable diamond chains nearby. – “that boy kept Romanov on his toes. Really! Did you teach him magic? He’s good. I have never seen anything like that. But he was outmatched. Then the girl woke up. Who is she? Anyway, she woke up and things started to look better. She did something strange with ropes of light and suddenly, he’s a rodent.”

Rhian forgot amusement. “She extended her changer abilities to include him in a change, but he isn’t a changer so he can’t change back! Name of the Jewel! Damn! I did not know she could do that.”

It took a moment, but Rhian finally felt well enough to walk. She went to the lodestone and found it silent. It no longer spoke to her in the language of jewels, and it no longer radiated magic. Helenka was eyeing it warily. 

“Where’s Hakel-Ann?” she asked to distract herself from the pain of the silent lodestone.

Helenka turned golden eyes on her. Then she smiled dryly and produced a small twittering sparrow.

“That’s Hakel-Ann!!!” Rhian gasped. She took several unsteady steps forward and touched the brown sparrow that had eyes like ice.

“I tried to stop him,” Helenka said apologetically. “It’s a changer thing. We rest when we’re in animal shape and he said he was tired.”

For once, Rhian was speechless.


	12. Chapter 12

When Hakel-Ann had resumed a humanoid shape, he was adamant about not letting Rhian enter Sector 18 again and the mages would never let anyone enter the Zuhar easily and so a compromise was found. They all met in a café near the pharmacy after five days. Five days, because Rhian slept for three days and nights and recovered for the other two. All the while, stories were being told to all involved.

“You first,” Alexavier gestured to Helenka when everyone was seated and holding a cup of coffee or tea.

Helenka chuckled. “Alright! Don’t turn accusing eyes at me. I did not give you the unexpurgated edition of the history I saw, but it was for your own good. If you had known everything, some shock would have happened and I needed you functional.

“Romanov did experiments on a batch of people alongside another mage named Domani and the experiment failed. The result was the seafolk.” She gestured to Hakel-Ann, who looked sad.

“Both of them were frightened of the results. Imagine a race of people so magically powerful! They placed them under the sea, trapped against a magical working so powerful that it is a miracle that they lived past a century.”

“Where is Romanov now?” Rhian asked irritably. She did not like seeing the sad look on Hakel-Ann’s face.

Someone answered her. Romanov was locked underground, to suffer the same punishment he had put through the mages. His magic was to be taken from him little by little until he died.

“Don’t be like that,” Helenka informed Rhian. She had correctly read the irritation on her face. “There are worse things in life. My own son was killed and his life essence used to hold the magical defenses of the under-city.

“I knew Romanov was alive and I had been searching for signs of his trouble and I placed myself where I could help the most, and where else to view current events than with a Jewel mage?”

Rhian scowled at her. “Thanks ever much.”

Helenka gave her a shameless grin. “You’re welcome.”

“That attitude is why I never fed you,” she sighed.

That caused some laughter. Then, Aric was nodded at by Alexavier. “Your turn.”

The telepathic mage looked embarrassed. “Nothing much, really. Except I finally understand about Donovan Jensen. His mind was covered with layers upon layers of spells; it was like working through a wire mesh, without the twisting and pulling. I had to – “

“Get to the point!” Cecil interrupted.

Aric smiled at him. “Sourpuss! Anyway, he was helping Romanov willingly, because he was tired of hiding. His mind was layered to protect Romanov, in case there was a mage like myself available to crack his mind.”

Then, like a strange dream, Rhian watched as Aric kissed Cecil. She clapped a hand over Hakel-Ann’s eyes and tried not to expire from the shock of finding out that they were gay. That explained why both of them worked well, for two men who were exact opposites.

“Why Rhian?” the Warlock asked.

Rhian would have scowled at him a few days ago but the Warlock had been more than generous and got a grin from her. “I’m the most vulnerable and a powerful mage to boot,” she answered cheekily.

Cecil smacked her on the arm.

“Alright! Because I could have changed the lodestones allegiance if I concentrated and so could Old Lady Jenkins, if she put her back to it.”

The Lady in question did not react to the implied insult. It did not matter that she was a Mainlander and supposed to be dense. She just gave Rhian a look that had her subdued.

“Rhian, how is the lodestone?” Brygid asked to divert the attention. For a Mainlander, that was amazing sensitivity.

Rhian went still. “Quiet. It’s not answering to anything. I’m not getting anything from it. I only know that there’s a lot of magic left in it.” She placed a hand over her eyes. “I think I could have cured it underground but I had to rest and when I woke, it was unresponsive.”

“It’s not your fault,” Emlyn said vehemently. “You’re only human.”

Old Lady Jenkins gave him a faint smile. “The boy is right, child. The damage is inside. It will take time.”

Rhian smiled at the both of them. “Thank you. How is Donovan?”

“He’s under the best care, with a fire-opal on him to prevent magic leaking.” Aric looked guilty. “Do you mind, Rhian?”

Cracking a mage’s brain made him crazy. That was why Telepathic mage’s were frightening in their own right. They could pass by you and leave you insane within a minute.

She rolled her eyes. “Aric, the fellow did his utmost best to ensure that I would no longer be living or that I thought I was dead. Do I mind?”

Everybody laughed. Bowie was not there but in the Zuhar. Rhian missed him and promised to bring him the news when things were wrapped up.

Then Alexavier asked Hakel-Ann a question that jerked Rhian back to the present.

“So what are you going to do now?” he asked the boy.

Rhian tried not to look worried.

Hakel-Ann was expressionless, as he always was, but Rhian knew he was thinking deep thoughts. Then he sighed and she tried not to flinch.

“I’m going to tell them, someday,” he said quietly. “Not now. I do not know how to tell them yet. But when I have learned enough, I will go home.” He saw Rhian’s anxious face and he smiled at her. “That’s not for a while. I’d like to stay with Rhian.”

He was rewarded by Rhian’s hug. “I love you!” she whispered to him only. “I will teach you all I know.”

Old Doughal took everyone’s attention next. He was talking to the Warlock and the man was such an intriguing figure that people generally watched what he did.

“I was wondering,” Old Doug was whispering softly. “I was wondering if I may work for you sir? I have heard tell that the recently burned out laboratories needed old herb lore. It does not take magic.”

The Warlock smiled. “The scientists are in hell, trying to open up the old documents. They have all forgotten the traditional way of doing things. Your help will be more than welcome, sir Doughal.”

Alexavier pursed his lips but did not say anything. He could no longer order Doughal because Doug no longer had magic. Technically, Doug could not be classified as a non-magic user either because he knew more about magic than daily, practical stuff.

“How is the High Chancellor receiving things?” Alexavier asked the Warlock.

“Not well. Things have been difficult, in our end. The paperwork is tiring,” the Warlock shrugged. “Honestly! The most tiring thing in Sector 18 is the paperwork, not the action. It’s the clean up that drives me nuts.”

They laughed at him. While the others made a second order of cake and lattes, Rhian leaned in to whisper to him, “Sir, I don’t think anybody here remembers your name.”

The Warlock grinned at her. “It’s Galen Caerdwynn.”

She gaped at him. “Are you pulling my leg?”

“I know!” he laughed. “My parents, apparently, did not have proper premonitions for my future.”

Galen. It was almost like calling large, growling bear Fluffy. Galen was a hero well-famed for his dislike of violence. 

“I shall try not to ask stupid questions next time,” she told him solemnly.

They were separated when Emlyn came back carrying cookies. She looked slightly guilty, talking to his boss.

“Okay?” he asked her. He eyed the both of them suspiciously.

The final wrap up was the laws, as it always was. The Warlock – Rhian refused to think of him as Galen – called the High Chancellor, the Admiral and the Chancellor on a nano – speaker. It was beyond uncomfortable.

“No.” the High Chancellor said without preamble.

The Admiral and the Chancellor were different. They listened and told the Warlock that they would try to change the laws so that it would not be quite so stifling. 

“He doesn’t believe you,” the Admiral said softly. “But he has not worked with you. I will try to change his mind.”

Rhian sat back and tried not to be too shocked. Alexavier and Brygid were just as surprised.

“That’s progress,” the Warlock remarked when the call was over.

“Excuse me?” Brygid asked.

The Warlock did not reply, but he smiled so enigmatically that Rhian wanted to kick him.


	13. Chapter 13

“Gareth is coming today,” she told Hakel-Ann seriously. “I told him via nano – speaker, so he knows you’ll be here. Hakel-Ann, try to talk, okay? People who don’t know you so well are unnerved by your silence.”

The boy looked worried. “Where are you going? I am to greet him alone?”

“I promised to meet Bowie after the café appointment and I had to get you home, you look more exhausted than anything.”

Finally, he relented and Rhian rewarded him with a kiss. “I am going to get you your own clothes, with a set of extra warm, extra lightweight windbreakers. You can do this. You are not anti-social, you are shy!”

Helenka watched the exchange with a slightly sardonic expression, one eyebrow lifted and the side of her mouth turned up. Rhian glared at Helenka. “Behave,” she said sternly.

She laughed softly. “No, I was not planning anything, aside from surprising the stars out of him. He was nice to me. Do you always think the worst of me?”

Rhian only scowled at her.

She walked quickly. Ever since she had emerged from the labyrinth, she had wanted to talk to Bowie. Bowie could not get out of the Zuhar and she knew he wanted to visit her.

She didn’t know when she noticed it, but the wrongness was just there, all of a sudden. The portal was still working, but only when she arrived on the other end did she notice that something was terribly wrong. Quickly, she summoned her jewels. She had only worn her fire-opal ring, a ruby and a garnet in her pocket. Rhian did not want to be defenseless again.

“Bowie???!!!!” She cried out. “Bowie??!!”

She placed on jeweled hairpins, bracelets and rings with record speed. She deemed the moment not frightening enough to wear the crown.

“Damn it Bowie! If you are anywhere here, answer me!” she screamed.

There was no response. Rhian asked the crystals that coated the inner walls of the Zuhar for help. The crystals blazed in response. It would have blinded someone else, but Rhian stared, unseeing. Their light was the language of the crystals. They spoke that there was no one else in the Zuhar.

“That can’t be right,” she whispered. The Zuhar always had a mage. Always. The souroush especially, lived in the Zuhar.

She wandered room to room while her mind worked out various scenarios, each more brutal than the last. There were no bloodstains and so she did not panic quite so madly. But it was beginning to drive her crazy.

“Oh, Bowie,” she gasped. “Where are you?”

When she arrived at the storerooms, where there were no crystals, she found the answer. A lot of the souroush lay at his feet, their blood coating the dirt floor with a muddy red. Bowie sat on a crate, watching the flowing blood make patterns on the floor.

“Oh no. Bowie!” she cried. She almost rushed to him, thinking, He has lost his mind! Then she saw the look in his eyes. It was not the calm of one who has seen unspeakable acts of terror. No, Bowie had seen war anyway. He was amused. It took only a few moments for Rhian to connect the dots.

“Oh. So Donovan was right?” she whispered. She was thinking of Donovan’s last sane words to her. That old man has more blood lust than I! he had yelled.

“Hello, Rhian,” Bowie greeted her softly. It was a different tone to what he normally used. He acted as though there were not a pile of dead bodies by his feet, pooling blood. They were slain by a knife, to judge by the wounds that were seen. It made Rhian sick.

“Name of the Jewel! What have you done!” she gasped.

He smiled sweetly. “Just releasing pent up energy.”

“Did you work for Romanov all along?” she asked to hide her revulsion.

Bowie snorted in disgust. “That revolting excuse for a human being?” he asked. “I was just keeping a blind eye on his doings. It was obvious, what he was doing. I cannot believe you stupid imbeciles did not notice.”

Something inside Rhian broke.

She knew it wasn’t anything physical. She couldn’t exactly explain the numb feeling; she had only felt like that once, when the lodestone cracked and she did not believe in dying of a broken heart, but she knew that it was her heart that cracked. She loved the old man like a father, and here was his true nature revealed, and it turned out he was even more twisted than Romanov.

She moved efficiently, for the Lady Jenkins taught her well. She tripped a couple of times and vey near the sharp spines that suddenly appeared on the ground. Rhian knew it was the Chance magic working on her. She had to finish it quickly before the hexes got stronger. The longer a hex sat on you, the stronger and more dangerous it got.

“Why?” she asked. Her mouth moved on auto – pilot. She was trying to concentrate for all she was worth, but to keep tripping and crashing your head against the nearest solid surface was difficult. She already had a gash on her left temple from banging her head on a crate and it made her head ring.

“I’ve always wanted to watch the world burn. It was nice, that Registration war. I helped things along whenever I could. Then you came and helped things end faster. Hex gods! That war would have lasted a century if you hadn’t tried to be the good angel,” he answered reasonably.

Rhian finally finished a transmutation and threw Bowie out of the storeroom. The lack of the dead bodies made her breath easier.

“You are crazy!” she cried out.

“Really? There is not a third person here to see who is crazy and not. It could be that I am sane and you are crazy,” he answered reasonably. “But why are you fighting me?”

She ignored him. She spoke to the crystals discreetly. He did not notice.

“This whole world is too polluted with people having too many ideas.” Bowie continued conversationally. He gestured absently and Rhian did a face plant on the dirt, almost breaking her nose. “We ought to start from square one, where there is only one man and woman.”

Rhian struggled up and finished her words to the crystals. A sharp outcropping of crystals with sharp edges pierced through Bowie’s stomach. He looked at it with vague surprise.

“You crazy old man,” she whispered. “And I thought you were smart, turns out you were mad. People always had different opinions about you. But Calixte – Helenka and I agreed on one thing. You always let nothing slip by you.”

He grinned and Rhian saw a trace of the foolish old man that he had acted for most of his life. “I know.”

That was how she knew that he knew that she loved him like a father. As he slumped to the floor, she saw the glint of a blade near his hand and tried not to weep. Bowie had a million chances to slice her up as she tripped over and over, but he stayed his hand. That was how she knew that in his own twisted way, he too had loved her. Even as she did her best to kill him, he had held back his knife.

The wait was different this time. There was no Emlyn to hold her hand and there was no Helenka to sting her awake with insults and no Hakel-Ann to make her laugh and frown with worry at the same time.

When the rainbow opal on her hand shimmered, she lifted her head. “Sir!”

Alexavier’s stern face came up on the rainbow opal. “Rhian! What on earth is happening?”

She swallowed. “It’s Bowie, sir.”

Haltingly, she told him of everything. Halfway through it, Brygid also appeared on her other ring. They listened, disbelief on their faces.

“I cannot believe this,” Brygid said. “But, it is also credible.”

Alexavier’s face was more reticent than usual. “He is dead?” he asked flatly.

“Yes, sir.” 

“There is no way to confirm your story, Rhian?” he asked again.

She felt a slight outrage at the edge of her subconscious, but she was too tired to act on it. Brygid expressed outrage far better than her.

“Alex!” Brygid gasped. “I am feeling Rhian’s emotions at the moment and she is in shock. I tell you, the chances of her lying are close to nil.”

She left them to argue and waited. There was always supposed to be a mage in the Zuhar and she waited. With Brygid and Alexavier, an argument would last for hours if there was no one to stand in the middle and smooth things out. That was what Bowie did best, smoothing things out. Bowie…

Moments later, Alecia and Delta dropped out of the portal, holding hands in a manner which suggested they were more than friends. Rhian did not have the emotional energy to be express surprise.

“Rhian, what is going on?” Alecia demanded. “We could not contact Bowie. And Alexavier and Brygid are not responding.”

A topaz ring glittered on Rhian’s finger and she answered it instead of answering them.

“Sir,” she said automatically.

“Alecia and Delta are there?” Brygid’s voice issued from the topaz.

“We are, lady,” they answered simultaneously, their confusion evident.

“Take Rhian’s place. Bowie is….momentarily out of the picture. Fire-Hair, go home.”

There it was, the longed for command. Rhian left them her topaz and ambled home, half blind and unseeing. If someone had chosen to mug her, they would not have much work to do. She was numb. She reached the pharmacy and was enveloped in a Gareth’s warm hug. It was such a welcome feeling that she had to hold back her tears by pressing her face on his scratchy windbreaker.

Bowie had hugged her like that once, when she was a little girl and had cried, homesick. Would she always find reminder of him? And would they always hurt so painfully?

“Honey, you looked awful,” he whispered to her softly. “Go to bed and I’ll watch over your seafolk for you.” That was the thing about Gareth, he never pried. He would wait millenniums for Rhian to volunteer information.

She managed to kiss him. She did not remember stumbling to bed, or changing her clothes. She only remembered the sweet oblivion that dreams offered.

\----------------------------------------------------------  
Rhian woke to the feeling of someone watching her. Being in a war, she knew when someone watched her. Many times, that feeling had saved her life.

Looking for the source, she found golden eyes and ice-colored eyes watching her, the first with humorous concern and the latter completely devoid of emotion.

“How long have the two of you been watching me sleeping?” she asked groggily. She touched her temples and found a bandage there.

Hakel-Ann shrugged as was his habit. Helenka smiled and answered. “Gareth is driving me crazy. He is doing a cleaning spree. For someone so mild and generous, that fellow can drive a person up the wall. He is even worse than you.” 

The words filtered through her brain but were deemed too complicated to figure out. Rhian tried to sit up and Hakel-Ann had to help her up. She placed her head between her knees and breathed, the action mechanical and painful.

“Any rings flashing?” she asked. That was a routine question. Routine and no surprises…

Hakel-Ann shrugged again. “I didn’t check your jewelry box. Why, are you expecting a call?”

To get Hakel-Ann out of the room, she sent him for nutria-sticks and a hot cup of tea. Chocolate would have to wait. It used to be Bowie’s favorite drink. The moment he was out of the hearing range, she told Helenka about Bowie. Somehow, telling it in the morning when you are rested, warm and comfortable was surreal.

“That’s….” Helenka tried for a word and failed. She swallowed instead. “Gods! I wish you took me with you yesterday!”

Helenka smoothed Rhian’s hair and the action made her shudder. She finally allowed several tears to escape. Such was her control that only a handful slid down her cheeks before she pressed a hand on her eyes.

“It was terrible, Calixte,” she murmured softly, calling the woman by the name she had gone by when she was still a bird. “Among the souroush that lay at Bowie’s feet was a girl, barely out of her teens. She was initiated to be a bixbite mage just a week ago.”

Hakel-Ann entered then, carrying a tray. He looked at her tears and Helenka’s solemn expression. “Shall I come back later?” he asked with surprising sensitivity.

Helenka shook her head. “No, food will make her feel better. I will contact the Warlock.” None of them asked why. They knew that Helenka did whatever she wanted for a reason.

Food did make her feel better, as did work. Thanks to Rhian, the pharmacy was well stocked with medicines that were fresh. A steady stream of customers kept her busy for the morning. In the afternoon, Gareth took over and Rhian went to work on the lodestone.

This was a sensitive thing for Rhian. She nearly always emerged from the work in tears. The lodestone was cold and it broke her heart every time.

At night, Alexavier contacted her and told her that all mages above the Lapis lazuli level were on rotation, keeping watch over the Zuhar.

“Brygid told me to let you off that duty. It is not comfortable for you?” he asked awkwardly. Rhian felt like hugging Brygid. Such sensitivity was alien in a Mainlander, but Rhian was beginning to think that Brygid was not the usual Mainlander. It was also the first time she had ever seen Alexavier being nice. He was calm, controlled and superior, but never nice. It was unnerving.

“Thank you, sir,” she told him. “It will be some time before I enter that place again. I will help in any way I can, but not there, sir, please.”

He nodded and that was the end of the matter. 

Around the next day, Emlyn came, bearing an emerald necklace. Rhian abandoned the herbs she was heating to listen to him.

“For you,” he said hesitantly. “Helenka called the Sector and told me what happened. She also told me how it was, with you and him.”

His name was unspoken. Rhian managed a weak smile. “Thank you. This will help. Emeralds give health.”

Emlyn was surprised at her warm reception and they talked, for a long time. When it came to near the evening, he asked her.

“May I…come to see you every afternoon…if you’re not busy?” he asked hesitantly.

Rhian managed her first real smile in two days. “Yes, you can.”

He hovered, unwilling to leave yet. She tugged him down. “Don’t be in such a hurry,” she whispered to him.

And he sat down.

In one of their conversations, Bowie finally came up. Rhian shuddered and placed a hand over her eyes. “It will take me a while to trust again, or even love as much as I loved that foolish, crazy old man,” she whispered. “In fact, everyone I loved broke my trust. Donovan, Bowie…”

Emlyn did not try to tell her differently. He knew about trust. He just patted her hand and nodded. “I know.”

She seemed to recall he was there and a slight tinge of red colored her cheeks. “It will take me a really long time.”

Finally, he grinned. “I know. I will wait.”

But Rhian was not totally blind to what was going on around her. She noticed one thing and felt a pain in her heart. She knew that Helenka was leaving soon. It was even surprising that the old changer had stuck around for so long.


	14. Chapter 14

When it was near sundown and Emlyn finally left, Rhian clambered up to the roof. As she had thought, Helenka was there. Even as a human, she seemed to enjoy heights.

“I thought you would be here, enjoying the view,” Rhian said in a way of greeting.

Helenka did not answer. She faced the sun, watching the last rays until there was only complete blackness. The light had briefly made her eyes seem like molten gold.

“I was saying goodbye to the light,” Helenka said finally. And when Rhian did not react, she added, “You do not seem surprised.”

Rhian shrugged, though her heart throbbed with sadness. “I’ve always known you weren’t a pet, nor were you ever ordinary. In that same way, I knew you could never stay.”

“Being a bird is fine, though in some ways, it is limiting. One of its limits is color. It’s a brilliant thing to see light in the human way again, even for a short while.” Her tone was conversational. She could have been discussing the weather.

The darkness made Helenka hard to see. She could have been anything, a bird or a bear, if not for the human air she radiated.

“But you’re not going to be a bird again?” Rhian whispered. “Elsewise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

The streetlights were coming on and she could faintly see a smile, along with the glitter of golden eyes.

“You have to understand, Rhian,” she answered softly. “I am very old, even for shape-changers. This will be my last change. It takes you, eventually. I will be an animal, disoriented and different, and finally, I will lose all sentient thought. I will just be another bird with strange eyes, and a slightly longer life span.”

Rhian held back tears. It was too much. She had lost too much. Not Helenka too. “That will be some odd bird.” It only sounded slightly choked.

“Don’t be sorry for me. This is not death.”

“What would happen if you do not do your last change?” Rhian had to ask.

Helenka gave a shrug, the first human movement she had made. It was a break from her unnatural stillness. “I do not know. But the change is coming soon. I feel it. We do get more volatile as we get older. I only hope for a bird. I don’t like to be snake. I would hate to lose my sense of smell.”

They both shared a laugh.

Would you even remember smell? Rhian wanted to say. But the question was left unasked.

They sat together until the streetlights were all lit. Several hover cars passed overhead but they paid it no mind. They watched as the streetlights slowly floated up to light up the greater portion of the street.

Suddenly, Helenka started to shudder violently. Goosebumps covered he skin.

“The change is coming,” she whispered. “You’d better go, Rhian. It isn’t a comfortable thing to watch.”

Rhian moved slowly and stopped midway down the stairs. Then she rushed back to the roof. Helenka was gone. Looking around, she saw the glint of golden eyes before there was a flap of wings.

“You got your wish, old friend,” Rhian said softly. “But golden eyed birds of prey are still rare.”

Later, Emlyn found her still on the roof. He carried a cup of hot chocolate, which he thrust into her hands after covering her with a blanket.

“I thought you left. Who told you?” she asked.

“Hakel-Ann. You had the boy worried. The midnight bell already rang, Rhian. Were you even planning on sleeping?” then in a gentler tone, he added, “Will you be alright?”

He wrapped an arm around her and the act warmed her more than the hot-chocolate.

“Probably. I miss her snide comments already,” she said with a sigh. Rhian buried her head on Emlyn’s shoulder and was relieved when he didn’t push her away.

“Oh, you know. Just think of her as temporarily on vacation,” when Rhian scowled at him, he amended, “or permanent vacation.”

“You are not helping,” she said pointedly.

He made an offended gesture. “I am helping just by being here. My overwhelming presence is being useful,” he said with a dramatic flair.

She smacked him on the shoulder. “For a non-magic user, you are more annoying than most.”

“I try! It’s the only way to talk to you.”

Rhian was indignant. “No, it’s not!” she yelled. Then she saw the look on his face. “Oh, you! Can’t you stop teasing me for even a single minute?”

“What could I be doing? Teasing you is a very pre-occupying job,” he responded.

Then, in a great act of daring, she said, “Kissing me works too and I respond to it far better than teasing.”

As he leaned in, he murmured against her lips, “Well, there’s a definite plus there. For one, I don’t have to worry for my life.” The hot chocolate sat on the roof, forgotten.

Far into the distance, a golden eyed eagle flew.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also available at [tumblr](http://ladyhallen.tumblr.com) for any worldbuilding questions and prompts.


End file.
